


Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice

by Incoherentbabblings



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Brooding, Chaptered, Cuddling, Dialogue Heavy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Engagement, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pre-New 52, Romance, Serial Killers, Very little plot lots of feelings, Weddings, emotional fragility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incoherentbabblings/pseuds/Incoherentbabblings
Summary: Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer's work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 120
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new fic! A fake engagement was asked, and although it was initially supposed to be for laughs I ended up writing plot light heavy romance instead. Thus, the aims of this fic is to be filled with: over-thinking, yearning, macking, and a giant plush duck. If that sounds up your alley then I sincerely hope you enjoy.
> 
> This fic is one hundred percent a gift to ThatBlondePerson and OurHappyGirl who both asked for this fic, encouraged it and answered every dumb question about canon I had including what the actual heck Drake Industries produced (because seriously what did Tim's parents actually do for a living). I hope you guys enjoy this.
> 
> It's gonna be much slower updates this time round. This one is a biggin. Again, I have it all roughly planned out, it's just a case of... well writing the thing. I am three chapters in and it's already at 20,000 words. I have 11 chapters drafted. The yearning guys. There's a fair amount of it.
> 
> ...Enjoy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce: I need you to lie to the world about being in love.  
> Tim: ♡(ŐωŐ人) Done.  
> Steph: (☉_☉) Wait one hot second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy the new fic! Leave a comment or kudos if you did, it really makes my day so much brighter!

“No way.”

“Batgirl.”

“No! Are you serious? Look, I did the trip to England – even though I have a life here and didn’t want to – because it was like only for a semester and it was to help people… but this? No.”

“I agree.” Red Robin chimed, bolstering Batgirl against Batman. He pulled back his cowl, revealing the tired young man underneath. He didn’t look wholly invested in anything Bruce had to say. “Can’t you fake it? With Selina or… I don’t know. Zatanna or…” Tim shrugged uselessly. “I’ve already had a fake engagement! One’s enough, thank you.”

“No-one is going to believe Bruce Wayne’s engagement… They know it will all fall through.” Dick chimed up. He was sat at the batcomputer, feet up on the keyboard, eating chunks of mango and watermelon and looking completely indifferent to the outraged faces around him. He looked briefly at Bruce. “No offense.”

“Well you do it then!” Stephanie argued. “You’re a…fully grown adult. No-one would blink an eye if you and Babs got engaged! Everyone knows you’re sweet on each other.”

Dick slowed the chewing of his fruit. Looking Steph straight in the eye, he spat out seeds over the edge of the ground down in the depths of the cave. Tim watched out of the corner of his eye as Bruce folded his arms, exasperated. Finally, after a tense stare off, Dick grinned.

“Can’t. Going off world on Friday. Can’t get married if you’re not on Earth. And this case really needs to be closed asap.”

It was a shit eating grin, one that made Steph want to instinctively slap it off his face as she felt increasingly crowded into a corner. Tim meanwhile screwed up his lips.

“You seriously think the designer has something to do with it?”

“Two murders at a wedding in two months. Both bride and groom.”

“No such thing as a coincidence?” Asked Stephanie. She tugged off her cape, hair getting caught as she did so. After a brief fight with the cowl, she tossed both aside and spun back to look at Batman.

“No. Not in these instances.”

“But what’s the connection?”

“Both brides were wearing the same designer.”

Tim nodded, catching on. “So… someone either has it out for the designer and wants her life to collapse… or she’s a wedding dress designer who hates happy couples.”

“Potentially.” Bruce walked towards Tim, seeing he was less aggressively opposed then Stephanie. “All you have to do is pretend. Hire her for the dress, plan the wedding. I’ll find the truth.”

Stephanie was not moved. “Using us as decoys? Really? And with what spare time am I supposed to plan a wedding? This is my final year of college… I can’t drop it all for the sake of a lie.” She looked to Tim, hoping to implore him to side with her. Bruce couldn’t make them both agree, surely.

To her growing distress, Tim was frowning off to the side, pulling his usual thinking face when he was musing something over.

“We’d seriously have to go through with it? Like from engagement, planning…wedding. All of it?” Something sparked in Tim’s eyes, and Stephanie’s stomach dropped.

She shook her head at him, unable to beg out loud. Bruce’s large chest heaved up and down with an exaggerated breath.

“It would have to be public. We’ll be making you targets. Big ones.”

If anything, this seemed to further motivate Tim, rather than placing the pressing guilt that had formed in Stephanie’s lungs. He looked to Bruce, expression serious and earnest.

“But we’d be potentially redirecting it from innocent people.”

Dick blinked, his somewhat sadistic enjoyment of their discomfort shifting as he too noticed Tim’s expression. A sort of desperation that Stephanie recognized in a way that made her breath short.

Panic went through her then, and she blurted out a, “What if I say no?” She tried to put her foot down, but instead it came out quiet and pleading.

“Then I won’t do it either.” Tim said, looking her in the eye for the first time since the idea was brought up. “I don’t want to. Not without her.”

Dick’s expression morphed into what only could have been described as pity. Tim and Stephanie were not dating, hadn’t been for years, but everyone knew from watching that they still knew each other inside and out, better than most anyone else. For all Tim had been drifting in and out of closeness with Bruce and Dick the past three years, it seemed he had only relocated positions within the family. Always to Cassandra first, his sister in every way that counted, and, despite his initial reservations, also to Stephanie, who had taken every effort to move past the worst of their adolescence with open arms.

They had grown closer (still not close enough in Tim’s opinion) but a level of shyness, of fragility remained. One wrong step and the false peace they had put together the past few years would crumble and reveal structural faults that neither could fix.

For all Tim wanted a partner to ensure that his loneliness would depart from him permanently; for all Tim wanted Stephanie to be that partner – Stephanie in all her hard fought and earned independence – Tim knew he couldn’t force her to do anything. Neither could Bruce. Not anymore. That lesson, they had both learned a long time ago.

He had been treading on eggshells for some time now, desperate to not upset her, even if it came at the cost of his own happiness.

Stephanie knew all of this. She had watched him argue with himself and twitch in a way that indicated he wanted to move closer, and she had watched him refuse to verbalise any of it.

He wouldn’t speak; therefore, she wouldn’t speak. Ergo, their relationship was at a dead end.

Unless he could get her to agree to lie with him.

Which would make her miserable. Because he wouldn’t be talking to her. Not truly.

And the uroboros of a Catch-22 situation would continue to eat its tail.

Bruce watched the naked relief play out on Stephanie’s face that she had Tim’s conditional support. He gave another sigh, and Dick watched from his seat, knowing that Bruce was about to play dirty.

“I do not trust anyone else to follow this through.”

Tim groaned, and hung his head down, and Dick knew Bruce had won. Stephanie meanwhile, for a lack of a better term, flipped out.

“No.” She said, and she began to tear off her uniform until she was only in her black tank top and leggings, stomping barefooted back up the stairs.

Trying to not take it personally, Tim rushed to the changing area to get into his shirt and jeans and socks. Maybe if he just caught her…

Dick watched the pair go, chewing loudly on a crunchy piece of fruit.

“Sometimes you’re really cruel.”

“…I know.”

Stephanie rushed into one of the drawing rooms, grabbing her bag she had left resting on a seat to pull out her shoes, collapsing to the expensive rug. Her little purple car was parked out front, so she could make a quick getaway.

Tim practically fell into the room, having thrown on a checked shirt and jeans that made his butt look good.

Stupid Tim.

“Steph.” He breathlessly plead. She tied her shoelaces, ignoring his tone. Finding the expensive cream rug much more interesting, she aggressively tied knots in her shoes.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“We could end up saving a lot of people down the line and –”

“You know that throwing yourself in front of a bullet isn’t going to make daddy love you any better, right?”

Tim stopped breathing, and she knew instantly she had crossed a line. She slumped forward, head banging against her knees. Tim watched her shoulders heave with silent sobs. Instantly he moved to be level with her, curled up on the floor, hidden out of sight from Alfred, or Bruce, or anyone.

His hand hovered, wanting to stroke her hair, but instead he settled for her bare forearm. He felt her muscle spasm under his cold fingers and watched as goosebumps appeared on her arm. She was looking paler than normal.

“Steph I won’t... I won’t force you to do it. But, if we can make ourselves targets then we could be saving someone else, and if Bruce closes the case before we even get to the alter… It doesn’t have to be serious...” He murmured the last part, trying to hide the paranoid part of him that believed Stephanie was reacting so strongly to the idea of being tied to him again – even temporarily.

“Tim, if this were five years ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. And not just because there’s no-one else I’d rather do this with...”

Tim smiled, despite the general mood of the room. Stephanie, with her head pressed to her knees, did not see.

“But I’m not going to be fake marrying a nice boy from down the road.”

“What do you mean?”

She finally looked up at him, and her eyes were dry and clear.

“Your _name_ , Tim. Bruce’s name.”

He blinked, still not comprehending. Her fingers crept forward, absently stroking the fabric of his shirt.

“If you were me... If you were just an average Gothamite, and you saw that one of the richest and most handsome guys in Gotham, the one who spends his life in the public eye... If you saw he was marrying a girl who has a father on death row, and a mother who has a history of drug abuse. A girl who he hasn’t publicly associated with before outside of days where his sister was present... A girl who got pregnant at fifteen... How would that look? A two-month engagement?”

“I’d think it was none of my business.”

“And then the marriage breaks off after a month. Or they don’t even make it to the marriage stage. What do you think happens to that girl? How do you think her life is going to be afterwards?”

Tim couldn’t help it, with his free hand he reached for one of hers. Tangling their fingers together, he felt her trembling. She squeezed back tightly, their fingers turning a little purple.

“Bruce and I wouldn’t let anything like that happen.” Tim swore.

“You can’t promise that.”

Still so jaded, under all that optimism. Still so doubtful of how kind the world actually was.

“Yes, I can. I can.”

“God Tim, you’re so naïve!”

She tried to pull away, but Tim held tight, not letting her leave. She stared at him outraged, as he tried to convince her.

“Please Steph. Bruce doesn’t make mistakes about this sort of thing. More people are going to die unless we do something.”

Pale blue eyes stared into indigo, and a long moment passed in silence, the clock on the mantle providing the only noise. Some garden birds chirped outside, and the fluttering of their wings past the window made Stephanie flinch out of the moment. She breathed unsteadily. Tim tugged their conjoined hands closer to his chest.

“You’d honestly rather do it with no-one else?” He asked, smiling crookedly.

She blinked, unable to stand the vulnerability anymore, frowned and looked out the window. “You said the same thing downstairs.”

He blushed, and she tugged her hands finally free. Tim tried not to grimace at the feeling. Steph was always warm, a beacon of tanned skin and golden hair. Without her, his fingers quickly grew cold.

_He had run home once, on a cold Gotham day, when he and his dad had spent an afternoon playing catch outside. His parents had been home for two months that time, and he had run in to find his mother and beg for a hot chocolate. He had been only six, and Janet had been sat in front of the computer, dark red hair piled up in a messy bun. Tim remembered her always looking well put together, even in her messier more relaxed moments._

_“Mom, mom!” He had cried, cheeks flushed red from the temperature. His mother’s stress lines had disappeared when she spied him coming her way, and she held out her arms to catch him. She had been in a good mood that day. Ready to indulge him._

_She pulled him up onto her lap, and Tim had laughed._

_“Feel my hands!” And he had put his frozen fingers on her cheeks, causing her to gasp exaggeratedly._

_“Frozen solid!” And she had kissed and kissed and kissed him and with each kiss he felt warmer and warmer. “Cold hands mean a warm heart though Tim. That’s the most important bit.”_

_And his father had entered the room, and the smile had slipped from Janet’s face, and the soft moment with his mother had been over. The warmth fled him, her and the house._

Fifteen years later, Tim wasn’t sure he believed Janet’s little saying anymore. Steph was just plain warm. From her head to her toes, her golden skin gave off warmth like she had been laying in the sun all day. Like she held the sun in her chest, and her hair was the yellow rays escaping. His mother and father’s warmth had come and gone with their moods. Stephanie’s was ever present. Even when she was angry, even when she was being cruel, she seemed incapable of being cold whilst being so.

Tim blinked, realising he had completely drifted off and away from the present moment, and was daydreaming again. Stephanie sat with her legs splayed out, still upset but more reserved than before.

"I’m going to go home.” She declared. “And I am going to think it over. Give me a day.”

“You gonna talk to your mom?”

“If I do go through with it, she’ll need to know.” Stephanie shifted, putting on her other shoe. “You’re already on thin ice with her you know. Have been for years.”

Tim was going to tease her and ask why it mattered what her mother thought of him, but like Steph said, he was treading on thin ice. Even getting her to consider it was a victory in his eyes.

She said her goodbye and got up, Tim remaining sat on the floor. Impulsively, she tugged at his hair playfully. Tim may have imagined it, but he felt her hand stroke his hair, like she used to when he’d rest his head on her stomach. It had started when she had pulled him down in her room, on her little bed, to see if he could hear or feel her baby move. It had continued long after the baby had been given up for adoption. She had said his hair was nice to play with.

Stephanie paused, looking down on him.

“You really won’t do it with someone else? Just me?”

“Promise.”

She sighed and went to go. She stopped, blond hair swinging round her shoulders, and looked like she was going to say something else. She thought better of it, and gave a half-hearted wave.

“See you tomorrow.” She uttered, then she was gone.

Tim remained sat on the floor long after she left. He heard her car switch on and roll off, and he remained on the carpet. His mind was racing.

Bruce eventually found him. Out of costume, in a white t-shirt and black trousers, he sat on the loveseat by Tim.

Keeping his head down, Tim spoke.

“She said… she wanted the day to think about it.”

“Okay.”

Tim stared off, knowing Bruce was waiting for him to ask the burning question.

“Why us?”

Tim heard the frame of the seat creak as Bruce shifted. Neither man was looking at the other.

“As I said. I trust you two will do a good job.”

“And no-one else.”

“You work well together.”

“Do we?”

“Tim…”

“She said that she was afraid of how people would react. Poor girl and a rich boy get hitched quickly and all that.”

Bruce’s response was firm and immediate. “I won’t let people think of her that way.”

Tim tilted his head to look at his father, comforted by the protective nature in his tone. “That’s what I said. She didn’t believe me.”

“Hnn.” Bruce placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. “She’ll help. She won’t turn away from people in need. I’ll leave you to deal with the… nitty gritty of it all.”

He got up to leave, allowing Tim to brood alone on the floor.

“Bruce?”

Bruce turned, looking at him expectantly. Tim swallowed.

“You honestly think we work well together?”

Bruce chewed his tongue, thinking of how best to respond. “I remember, how happy you made each other, and I trust her with you. You’ll both do well in this.”

And that was all. Tim stared at the now empty doorframe, unsure of what to make of Bruce’s statement. His fingers twitched, craving the warmth of Stephanie’s grip once more.

He couldn’t decide if he was being selfish or not for wanting her to agree to such a silly idea. A silly idea that could save several people down the line. Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to spend time with her outside of the costume. Only if she wanted it though. He wasn’t that cruel. Falling forward to the floor, butt up in the air, Tim grumbled to himself about how lovesick he was.

Stephanie meanwhile had to pull over halfway home, so emotional that she needed to catch her breath.

 _This_ was what was going to bring Tim and her together once more? Another lie?

She couldn’t bare it. To have to pretend to be happy and in love when really what she would be was miserable. But still in love.

She’d never stopped. She still craved his eyes on her (and only her), to hear him say how proud he was.

No.

No, she was past that. That was the point. The point of Batgirl, the point of returning to Gotham.

She rubbed aggressively at her eyes, sat on the layby of the road, and called her mother, unable to wait until she reached home. She put on the speaker, and set the phone on the dashboard.

Her mother had the next three days off, so with some luck she would catch her.

“Hiya Stephie.” She answered. “All good?”

“Yeah. Just driving back.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“I… mom… I’ve been asked to do something. For work.” She clarified. Her mother would understand. “And I’m not sure I should.”

“Why?”

Something in Stephanie snapped, and three years of grief came pouring out. Her mother listened, saying nothing. Stephanie knew that her mother was wary of Tim, of Batgirl, of the whole thing, but she was also the one who could give a somewhat neutral response. As she ranted, Stephanie grew more distressed. She knew from the outside she must have looked like a mad woman, arms flailing and legs kicking. As she drew to a close, Stephanie rested her forehead on the wheel of her car.

“...But I want to help people. And I want to be with him. And I don’t know if that makes me weak.”

“It makes you lovesick.”

Her mother’s tone was soft, sad, and empathetic. Stephanie didn’t know which emotion was comforting and which was upsetting. She sniffed loudly, pressing the heel of the palms of her hands so tightly to her eyes that she saw stars. Crystal was silent, letting her daughter think her rant through. A minute passed, and Stephanie lowered her hands from her eyes, feelings slowly clicking into place.

“Thanks mom.”

“You made your mind up?”

“Yeah.”

Turning her engine back on, she picked up the phone once more. “Gonna be a bit longer until I get back. We need anything from the shops?”

“Another two cartons of milk wouldn’t hurt.”

“’Kay.” She buckled her seatbelt on. “Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, Stephie. Glutton for punishment that you are.”

Stephanie laughed, then hung up. The smile quickly faded, and she stared at her home screen. Closing her eyes, taking a breath, and flicking her indicator on, she got back on the main road, looking for a place to do a u-turn.

Alfred opened the door to find Stephanie hopping up the steps to the front door, having let her back through the front gates. She smiled bashfully at the butler.

“I’ll inform Master Bruce that you’ve returned.” He said, ushering her inside.

“And Tim?”

“Of course. Make your way to the kitchen, Miss Stephanie. There are some baked goods cooling. You can take some home for you and your mother.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

She perched herself on one of the breakfast bar stools, staring at the banana muffins on the cooling rack. They smelled very good.

Tim arrived first, Bruce following behind. Both men looked expectant.

There was a brief pause as Stephanie collected her words.

“I’ll do it.” Bruce nodded, and Tim, betraying himself utterly, smiled broadly. It made something in her gut jerk, and she continued despite herself. “Only to help you solve the case. You promise to protect me from bad press?”

Bruce’s eyes tightened. “We’ll need a lot of publicity to ensure we capture their attention.”

“Good publicity.”

“Yes.” Stephanie’s eyes flittered to Tim as he moved closer to her, only partially listening to Bruce. “You’ll both have the family clout behind you. Use it.”

“Fine.” She nodded one last time. Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Stephanie turned away to grab one of Alfred’s muffins. Sensing the mood of the room, Bruce left, passing ownership of the task to the two young adults.

Tim moved closer than she would have preferred, close enough to feel his warm breath move her hair, but she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Stephanie…”

Taking a large bite, she inspected the granite worktops, finding the little silver glimmers fascinating. Tim saw she was going to be unresponsive. Hating himself a little, he began to dictate their plan going forward.

“We’ll go on a few dates first. People have seen you, me and Cassandra hanging out, so it won’t be a total shock. When do you next have a spare afternoon?”

She bristled at being told what to do in the manner Tim had slipped into, but she answered quietly.

“Thursday.”

“I’ll pick you up from campus. We’ll go to Robinson Park.” Colour rose to Tim’s cheeks as he got lost in his own head. Stephanie continued not to look at him, finding Alfred’s baking less upsetting. He was looking at her longingly. She knew that look well enough that she could sense it on him.

“Sounds good.” She said around a mouthful of muffin.

“You still want me to teach you how to ride my skateboard?”

That got her to look at him. She shook her head, trying not to give in to his puppy dog eyes.

“Tim, not like that. Not with everyone watching.”

This is what she had been dreading. Things she wanted, things she craved, but built on a foundation of lies. She and Tim weren’t going on a real date, so why should she do something she wanted for real? She was fine with lying, she did it every day of her life, but not for this. Not when half-truths were thrown in with Tim.

Tim seemed confused. “You said it just the other day. This is a good as reason as any.” He pushed his way closer into her personal space. Frustratingly, she wasn’t unnerved by it. “Steph… It gets easier. Those guys being around taking photos... Bruce has so much hold over them they don’t come near any of us.”

“Frightened of the big bad bat?”

“More like the billionaire with a big pocket for legal fees.” Tim snorted. “Honest. You’ll forget they’re there.” His tone turned a bit more serious, a bit more somber. “I know the whole thing is…less than ideal. So, let’s try and have some fun, yeah?”

Tim thought he knew that Steph knew that he still loved her. He’d said as much. But that was years ago. He’d also tried to kiss her. But that was also years ago.

Okay, so _maybe_ being forced to get engaged and married wasn’t the best foundation to start a genuine courtship, but Tim could make it work.

So he smiled at her, and Stephanie smiled back. It was genuine.

He could make her happy.

“Okay.” She picked up two muffins to take home. “I’ll see you Thursday then.”

Tim’s smile widened as he watched her go. Mind racing, he twirled around in the kitchen, smacking his hands repeatedly off the counter.

“So… you’re going to tell her that you want to pursue a genuine relationship once this is all over or…?”

Dick’s voice drifted over from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, one foot resting on his other ankle. His body language was casual, but his expression was deadly serious. Tim dismissed his concerns.

“Won’t need to. I will…show her that I am emotionally ready to get back in a relationship with her, and I _know_ she still loves me so… by the end, the lie can be over, and she can ask me.”

“She has to ask you?”

Dick sounded so unapproving that Tim’s hackles rose. He walked around to the other side of the counter, further separating him from his elder brother.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Tim shook his head, baffled. “Because I’m the one doing all the work.”

Dick tilted his head, frustrated with Tim. “Define ‘work’? Buying her a nice dinner counts as work?”

“No! But I… She’s frightened. I’ll prove she doesn’t need to be.”

Dick’s eyes tightened. Like Stephanie, he thought Tim was being awfully naïve. Tim grumbled to himself.

“Just… go do your space adventure. When you come back in two months… you’ll see. We’ll catch the bad guy, innocent people will be saved, the press will love Steph as much as I do, and we’ll be on our merry way to getting out all the bad air between us.”

“By…not talking about the bad air.”

“We’ll talk! She… she has to start it. ‘Cause I did all the talking in the past. It’s her turn now. That’s all.”

Dick chewed on the inside of his cheek. Tim picked up a muffin and threw it at his brother, unable to bear the condescension. “You have no room to judge. I’ve loved her for half my life. I’m not going to have a mission be another nail in the coffin.”

Dick caught the muffin, ripping the top off and inspecting the inside. He turned to go, knowing he would get nowhere with Tim. Once the boy had made his mind up, it took a plan exploding in his face to realise he’d done wrong.

“No,” Dick said, nibbling as he walked away. “You want a lie to be the kiss of life.”

Tim stood in the kitchen, his loneliness creeping up on him. Looking desperately around, he grabbed his own baked good, then rushed downstairs to take his car back to his apartment.

He could make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am on tumblr under the same name if you wanna chit chat or give me a follow or whatever. Let's say I will update when I am always two chapters ahead?
> 
> See you next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping, dates, and a dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo my gosh! Look at all those kudos and hits! Ah! Thank you! Thank you!
> 
> Let's jump straight in shall we?

Tim’s Thursday began well – a morning at work which had ended with his lunch break going into one of Gotham’s nicest department stores. He had pulled some strings, using Wayne “clout”, to get an appointment with the jewellers there.

Bruce had said no budget, and Tim was going to take him at his word.

Now he was sat, glass of bubbly champagne sitting untouched, at the desk of a man with a thinner moustache than Alfred, but a belly three times the size. Tim rubbed his knees, more than a little uncomfortable.

“I need an engagement ring, a promise ring, and wedding bands.”

He had a plan, of sorts. The engagement and wedding rings were all for show – the more expensive, the better. He didn’t want them to be ugly – he wasn’t going to make Stephanie wear something she loathed on her finger for two months, and he wasn’t _that_ frivolous with money – but they had to be ostentatious enough to catch people’s attention. The fact that he was even here would be enough, but let it be said that the Bats knew drama like no other.

The promise ring was… well it was part of a plan that Tim had no proof would ever reach the stage of being offered, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. That one, he would buy with nothing but Stephanie in mind.

The man at the table blinked, gears in his head turning, and he became ever more effusive. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together.

“Any ideas for these rings?”

Tim raised his chin, trying to appear confident. “Purple and white for the engagement, plain wedding band for me but diamonds for hers.”

“Budget?”

Tim scoffed, and the man smiled widely.

“It’s such a moment for me, to have a Wayne be a patron once more. Mr Wayne’s father used to frequent here, or so I’m told. You’re in good company.”

The endless cabinets that circled the room were suddenly emptied by a small army of assistants, each laying out more diamonds and sapphires and amethysts than Tim would ever know what to do with. The amount of money in this room… no wonder people hated him and his family.

Trying not to appear overwhelmed, Tim quickly chose the wedding bands. White gold, Stephanie’s with embedded diamonds that circled the entire ring, his a chunky thing that felt weighty on his finger. A constant reminder of the promise he would make. Tim smiled tightly at the thought. With a _little_ luck, he would make that promise to be faithful and true and in sickness and in health... With _a_ _lot_ of luck, he’d be able to fulfil those promises, and she for him.

For now though, he was stuck buying rings that he knew neither of them truly wanted.

He and Steph both didn’t like white gold… though how Tim knew this, he didn’t know. It just lacked a warmth. Stephanie didn’t wear much jewellery anyway. The odd set of earrings here and there, one or two necklaces… no rings. No bracelets. No watches.

He wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t like to, or she just couldn’t afford to.

Resting his chin on an arm on the table, Tim mused over a shortlisted row of rings. The man across the table licked his lips and leaned in closer. Tim moved backwards, a little put out. The man seemed undeterred.

“May I enquire… the lady you are buying these for?

Oh boy. And with that it started. He told the truth, for whatever it was worth. He smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it would fool the overly curious seller.

“I’ve known her since I was fourteen.” True. “Childhood sweetheart, I guess?” Half true. False. For now.

_Down boy. Focus._

Tim finally settled on a sapphire ring that was almost lilac in shade. Twelve carats, whatever that meant, surrounded by oval shaped diamonds and smaller, glimmering purple and pink stones. It was huge, with no price given, and was sure to make Stephanie cringe.

“David Morris…” The man nodded approvingly, like Tim was supposed to know or care who that was. “His son continues to do very good work. That ring is a beauty no?”

It would do.

“And the promise ring? For the same lady?”

Tim tried not to read into much about the implication that he kept multiple women.

“Yeah… Rose gold for this one.”

The man’s nose twitched, and with a wave of his hand more rings appeared, though the selection was much smaller.

Tim didn’t like any of them, however. Too granny-ish. Rose gold wasn’t popular with the younger crowd apparently. The sales manager sighed sadly, tapping his fingers on the table, thinking of a solution. Tim knew he was acting exaggeratedly, as what Tim wanted wasn’t impossible to provide. Especially not at the price he was about to pay.

“Is there one perhaps, you do like, that we could refit? We could make something entirely bespoke, if you wished, but if there is one design –”

“The pink sapphire – the one that looks like a flower.” With a jerk of his jaw, Tim drew the man’s attention to a smaller set of rings. Still much more expensive than what 90% of Gotham’s population would be willing to pay for a ring, but more manageable for Tim.

The man patted his belly. “Are you sure Mr Wayne? It is only two carats. There are other—”

“Drake-Wayne.” Tim interrupted quietly, still looking at the ring. “And yes. I’m sure.”

A diamond shaped pink sapphire sat surrounded by eight pear shaped diamonds, with the gaps between the points filled with more pink sapphires. The band also had embedded diamonds, but they stopped part of the way round. It was currently in white gold, but Tim thought it would look better in the softer pink shaded gold. It was utterly girly, and he wanted it for Stephanie.

Before he signed an agreement which contained too many zeroes, Tim threw in a bracelet for good measure with carved rubies. Birds were engraved in the deep red, and Tim wanted Stephanie to have something that was shamelessly meant to make her think of him whenever she saw it.

In the back of his head he could hear Stephanie’s discomfort, but he had a date to attend to. Hiding in one of the department store’s bathroom cubicles, he threw off his suit in a way that would have Alfred disappointed in him, switching for a t-shirt and a plaid over-shirt with dark jeans. Ramming his dress shoes into his backpack, he fled the store, high on excitement and the knowledge that he had just spent a million dollars on jewellery. Hopping in his red car and tossing his bag towards the trunk, Tim patted himself on the back, then set off for the college campus.

Stephanie was waiting for him, at the steps of one of the medical buildings. Tim was laughing before she even got in the car.

“What?” She said, collapsing in a heap. “What’s so funny?”

“We match.”

Stephanie recoiled, noticing that she was wearing a thin plaid hoodie, green t-shirt and jeans. Looking at Tim’s clothes, she cursed quietly.

A moment’s pause followed, Tim laughing to himself against the wheel of the redbird. It had been some time since he had laughed just because something was funny, and not from an occasion calling for a fake smile or laughing in derision at himself or others.

It was enough to make her want to tease him.

Wordlessly, she went to leave the car, reopening the door. Tim squeaked, reaching across her and shutting it.

“No! It’s cute! Come on, I got my skateboards in the back. Gonna have you riding by the end of the day.”

“Right.” She threw on her seatbelt. Tim set off. They sat in happy silence for a while as they moved from one Gotham island to another. Growing more comfortable, the radio playing quietly, barely above the sound of the engine, Stephanie smiled.

“Dare I ask how was work this morning?”

Tim gave such a sigh that signalled that he was happy, albeit a little stressed. “It’s okay actually!” He confirmed. “Getting started with a couple new projects, so lots to plan.”

“Bruce helping you?”

“Yeah, actually he’s…” He turned into the multi-storey, getting through the barrier. “I think he’s pulling back on a bunch of stuff.”

“Getting ready to retire at the ripe age of forty-seven? Tragic.”

Tim laughed again, backing the car into a tight space expertly. “Well, not like Dick is in a hurry to join the board.”

“No, he’s busy preparing to cover the other job I think.”

“Right.” Handbrake on. Engine off. “Dick will do the Gotham night job; I’ll do the Gotham day.”

He sounded content with that routine. Stephanie thought he was lying.

“Cass?”

“International night job.”

“Damian?”

Tim shrugged, opening the door and getting out. Before Stephanie could get out on her own, Tim was already at her side, opening the door for her. She clambered out, the redbird sat pretty low compared to her own little car.

It was cloudy, but dry, spring well under way. Robinson park was filled with lines and lines of blooming flowers, little lakes with bobbing ducks, and large open spaces to lay out and snooze. Plenty of space to practice her balance and roll in a straight line.

Stephanie put on her backpack and tried not to look clumsy when Tim handed her one of his boards.

She gasped when he slapped a helmet on her head. Slapping it repeatedly, he laughed.

“Safety first.”

And so began their ‘dates’. Two weeks of what would have been considered beforehand just a regular day of them hanging out, now had different connotations. She took a step by holding his hand everywhere. He took a step by taking many photos of her to post online, either alone or with Cassandra when she deigned to join them. Steph would frequently grow embarrassed by the attention, and insist he be in half of the photos with her.

Honestly, it was not as bad as she feared, however that was largely because of how shallow the interactions felt. Not much of substance was spoken, largely because they couldn’t, being in such public spaces. She could feel people doing double takes at them, and every now and then someone would take photographs, but it was never enough to disorient her.

So far so good. Except she suspected the reason they were being left to their own devices was that they had been seen together in the past, Cassandra usually in tow, so she was nothing more than a family friend. They were going to have to up the ante a little.

Stephanie met Tim one night at the base of Wayne Tower. He had changed again for her, out of his suit.

“You look handsome.” She teased. Tim burned red. He said nothing, only staring at her, then went to lean forward for a greeting kiss.

Stephanie leaped back. She didn’t mean to, and she tried not to think too much of how vulnerable Tim looked from her rejection. Gulping, she buried herself into his chest, tugging his left arm around her waist.

“Where are we heading?” She asked, desperate to move on from that awkward moment.

Tim’s coat pocket buzzed aggressively. When he looked, he swore.

“What?”

“It’s a text… from Dick?”

Stephanie grabbed his arm.

_There’s a festival on Amusement Mile tonight! Could be fun wink wink._

Stephanie was flabbergasted. “I thought he was in space? Like fifty light years away?”

Tim stared at the screen. “He is…”

He looked down at her, and the two exchanged confused glances.

“You mean he—”

“Found a way to text me across time and space only for the message to be to take you to the fair? Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Tim sighed, dragging a laughing Stephanie off with him in the direction of Amusement Mile.

“Wingman to the rescue!” Chortling to herself, Tim couldn’t help but join in.

Amusement mile was lit up bright when they arrived, music blasting and lots of young families crowding in. Dick had done good in pouring half his inheritance into the strip, despite it being an obvious target for people like the Joker. The Wayne’s had stubbornly continued to fund it alongside the city council, allowing for entertainment beyond shopping in Gotham.

It had a certain charm about it – well maintained, but still old fashioned. The lighting was warm, oranges and yellows and reds, and each ride and stall was blasting out its own variety of generic trance and dance music. It was so busy that it felt private, as everyone was absorbed with their own fun.

“Want a snack?” Stephanie asked, pulling Tim over to one of the vans. “I have a hankering for nachos.”

“I dunno. Kind of want something sweet.” And then he nudged her.

She made a face, brain now focusing on the prospect of salty fried food. “Urr no. Sweets is for after.” She joined the queue, rummaging through her little bag for her purse.

Tim groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “You missed my clever flirt!”

She rotated to stare, feet fixed in place. “Huh?”

Suddenly Tim was bashful. He couldn’t say it again. She had rejected him twice now, and so decisively too.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said.

Eyebrows drawn into a frown, Stephanie watched as Tim smiled awkwardly. He would do it when hurt, but not willing to admit it. The next step would be shuffling his feet, jamming his hands in his pocket, and directing his gaze elsewhere, anywhere but the person who had hurt him.

Stephanie watched as he proceeded to do exactly that.

She hated seeing him sad, even if she didn’t understand why. Reaching up, she cradled the back of his neck, fingers in his black hair, trying to provide some sort of physical comfort. She felt how tense his muscles were, and Tim sighed when she squeezed and rubbed at the base of his skull. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed her touch, making do with what she could offer him.

“Tim?”

“Mm.”

“What’s wrong?” He blinked, expression freezing.

“Nothing.”

“No, there is.” They stepped forward in the queue. “Tell me?”

Quietly pleading, Stephanie resumed her strokes. Tim tilted his head, allowing her better access.

“Nightmares.” Tim answered. Cooing, she curled closer. Neither of them knew how genuine the other was being, but Tim played along regardless. “It… they aren’t of anything specific, but I just wake up with like…this pressure on my chest and I don’t sleep well.”

“Honey, you’ve never slept well.” Pet names. Tim’s heart stuttered a little. He missed her sweethearts and honeys, more than he realised. He lied to himself and believed she was saying them sincerely, and not just playing the role of the concerned girlfriend. Her thumb found the bone behind his ear, rubbing it therapeutically. “When did these kind start?”

Another step forward in the queue. As the pair spoke, they had moved closer and closer, and Tim’s arm had begun to wrap around her waist. Stephanie distantly heard people behind them muttering, and could feel others staring at the overt pda, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Couple of months ago.”

The comfort that Tim felt at her miserable look was indescribable. That wasn’t faked, she wasn’t capable of lying with that level of sincerity. It wasn’t that he enjoyed her being sad at his expense, not even close, but the confirmation that she still cared deeply was heartening. Whether it was people in general or specifically directed at himself, Tim didn’t care. Being Batgirl hadn’t dampened her kindness.

Not for the first time, Tim was struck at how much she had grown, and how much he had seemingly regressed. Paralleled journeys, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to accept that he was destined to be as lonely and as miserable as he felt on his worst nights. He hadn’t completely given up hope. Neither had Steph, because after a moment of thought, she reassuringly tugged on his earlobe.

“We’ll figure it out.” She said. And then, unable to help herself, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It could have been read as platonic, as it was so quick and chaste to be seen as anything but, however when he turned to look at her, expression a little desperate, hand on her hip twitching, it seemed she finally understood what he wanted.

They kissed, once, twice, three times before a flash of light, the flash of a phone, made Stephanie break away. Tim turned his head, noticing a group of teens trying to hide their phones.

 _Bingo_. He couldn’t help it, he smiled smugly.

Stephanie seemed to catch it and became stiff in his hold. They were called forward to the van, and Stephanie stepped away from Tim in a vain attempt to move forward and distract herself.

Kissing him was a mistake. She had avoided it then and she should have avoided it now, but he had played her like a piano and… it had felt _right_.

Breath shaking, she paid for her food. Tim put his arm back around her, and she cursed herself for relaxing back into it. Her body and mind were of two different opinions for Tim, and it was making her miserable.

She continued to play the game, feeding Tim chips, making him take photos of her on the merry-go-round, clinging close to his side, but as the night went on, she felt increasingly hollow. It would almost have been easier to pretend to be in love with someone she loathed, but being there with Tim, knowing that his smiles were genuine when the circumstances were forced... It was emotionally taxing.

She couldn’t tell, not anymore, what was real and what was just to grab folk’s attention, and it was eating at her. What made it more intolerable was that her and Tim were spending no time together in private. And how could they? College was kicking her ass more than normal and Tim had a high-flying job that required so much of his time. When they were free, they were out together.

She craved alone time with him.

Tim meanwhile saw Stephanie was faltering and tried to think of a way to end the evening on a high note.

“You ever won one of those arcade games?”

Stephanie, whose face was half hidden behind a giant ball of cotton candy, was quiet when she responded, “I thought they were rigged.”

“Oh sure. There’s a knack to them though.”

He looked around at one he could win at.

The shooting range was closest. The prizes ranged from mediocre to crass, but Stephanie didn’t miss the childish glee that sparked in his eyes at the sight of a ridiculously large plush duck. Like a rubber duck for the bathtub, but the size of a toddler. It was the kind of thing she could have straddled and bounced along the road on if she was determined enough.

“Tim please don’t win me that duck.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I do not need a giant duck.”

“Not asking if you need it.” He took a large chunk of her cotton candy, shivering in delight when it dissolved in his mouth. “Asking if you wanted it.”

Still hidden behind the sugar, she looked down. “My answer doesn’t matter does it? You’re gonna show off?”

“Oh yeah. You want a go too?”

“No… no I’ll watch you.”

And over they wandered to the stall. They had to wait until a young father and his daughter finished their turn before Tim could step forward. Stephanie watched them, the father encouraging his little girl. She wasn’t very good, as to be expected of a seven-year-old, and so won nothing. She got upset for a moment, distraught that she wasn’t good enough to get a prize. Her father got down next to her for a hug, muttering reassurances.

Impulsively, Stephanie butted in.

“Excuse me?” Both the girl and father looked up. The dad’s suspicious look turned friendly when he saw it was Stephanie’s unthreatening form. She held out her cotton candy. “I’m full. Do you think she’d want this?” A pause, as both parties processed what she was offering. “Is she allowed candy? I just… I just…”

She trailed off awkwardly, regretting having spoken. The little girl released Stephanie from the emotional turmoil and turned to her father.

“Can I?”

The father took the stick from Stephanie. He looked a little bamboozled by the abruptness of the offer. He nodded his thanks, then nudged the little girl, who squealed.

“Thank you!”

“Welcome.”

As the father and daughter walked away, the dad caught Stephanie staring at his little girl. Stephanie tried to smile in a way that was endearing at the man, and not like she was thinking of twelve different ways to stuff the little girl in the boot of her car. The father smiled back, so Stephanie supposed it worked.

She turned back to the stall, to see Tim smiling dopily at her. He kissed her temple, and she sighed, tension leaving her as he did so. He walked towards the vendor, calling out over his shoulder,

“You’re too good for this city sometimes… you know that, right?”

“Tim…” She wandered back to his side. “Just win me that duck, would you?”

And win her the ridiculous duck he did. Stephanie knew the entire family were pretty handy with guns. She herself was good with them, though she loathed their weight in her hands. Jason aside, Dick was the best shot she’d ever seen, and of course Kate knew her way around a firearm too, so she should have expected it from Tim.

He shot the row of ducks quickly and smoothly, definitely showing off, but Stephanie couldn’t really find it in her to pretend to be impressed. The rifle was old, the pellets were harmless, and Tim was shooting yellow plastic ducks on a rotating bicycle chain... But still. She didn’t like seeing Tim with a gun.

The duck seemed larger off the hanger, and she struggled to hold it without it tripping her up or completely unbalancing her.

As they walked away, Stephanie resorted to pulling it up, resting on her head like a basket filled with goods for the local market.

“Very nice.” Tim teased. He nudged her, making her stumble to the side, completely off kilter with such a weight on her head. She laughed breathlessly, then threw herself back at him. He caught her, hands in intimate places, and pulled her round. She quickly got the idea, and hopped on his back, resting her chin on his shoulder. She placed the duck on top of them both, and Tim stumbled out the fair, deliriously happy that her mood had been lifted.

They barely noticed the stares and photos that were taken. The following morning Stephanie saw she had been tagged in a few Instagram posts, and on twitter the pair were mildly trending, though not enough to cause her alarm. She continued to attend her classes and not speak to Tim until he would message her, asking when she was next free.

It was a Friday, three weeks into their ‘dating’ when he asked her out to dinner.

A nice dinner.

A _really_ nice dinner.

“Alfred bought you some clothes.” Tim had said when he came to pick her up that night. Crystal had answered the door to glower at Tim, only to find him holding four hangers with dresses on them. Stephanie, pushing in front of her mother, was wearing a basic pink dress. The ones in Tim’s arms were blue or green. No babyish pink to be found.

“What I’m wearing isn’t good enough for you?”

Faced with two potentially angry Browns, Tim shook his head.

“No! No, you look beautiful! You always look beautiful.”

Crystal snorted; Stephanie looked like she was going to cry. She was wearing her hair up in a bun, tiny earrings hanging from her lobes. She peered at the choices.

“Alfred bought them?”

“He was shopping for Cassandra and saw these. Said they made him think of you.”

“Somehow I don’t find that reassuring.” She took them from his grip and turned back around, stomping back inside. If Tim had been expecting to be allowed back in the house, he was denied. Crystal remained in the doorway, wearing a faded blue dressing gown. Her slippers were grey and fluffy. She was one of the most intimidating things he had ever looked at.

He tried to smile at her, but she wouldn’t have it.

“You are ruining her life.”

The sentence was short, sharp, and honest. Tim’s breathing stopped, and he said nothing in response. Thoroughly shamed, he stared at his feet.

 _Not me._ He wanted to beg. _Bruce. Bruce was the one who failed her._

But he knew that Crystal was referring to them all, the whole lot of them, when she said “you”. He also knew that Crystal knew what they were about to go through, and was not happy about it.

There was a part of him, out of anger for Steph, and maybe he was projecting a little after his own parents, that wanted nothing more to snap at her: _Oh? Now you care about your daughter’s wellbeing?_

Tim had taken care of Steph years before Crystal had gotten her act together. Heck, it had taken Steph dying for Crystal to truly pull herself together. No drugs, no emotional unavailability, no shitty husbands and brothers and friends hanging around the house on her watch.

Tim bit his tongue. Stephanie was trying so hard to have a functional relationship with her mother, but Tim couldn’t let go of the disappointment on her behalf.

Not that Tim had much better examples to go off of, Dana more than anyone tried the hardest, and whilst Bruce tried...

No. Not going down that rabbit hole.

Tim said nothing, knowing no words would help the situation, and cowered under Crystal’s stare. The ring in his blazer pocket weighed heavier and heavier with each passing moment. He had kept the engagement ring on his person since he had taken it home, not knowing when he would have to whip it out.

His other pocket buzzed then. His phone. Pulling it out, thankful for a distraction from the silent tower of a future “mother-in-law”, he saw that Bruce was phoning.

Caught between not wanting to appear rude to Crystal and potentially missing important information from Bruce, Tim decided that Crystal’s opinion of him was already shot, and answered the phone, still avoiding her stare.

“Hey Bruce. Just about to take Steph out. What’s up?”

“Another couple have died.”

Tim finally looked upwards at Crystal, seeing that she could sense something had gone wrong.

“…Same connection?”

“Yes.”

The ring felt a thousand tonnes.

“We’ll… we’ll speed it up.”

“I will speak to the designer tonight. See how she’s doing. If she knows anything. There’s still no public suspicion of her. Both of you come back home after you’re done at the restaurant.”

“Okay.” Crystal had stepped closer, out onto the little step that granted access to the front door. She was blatantly eavesdropping. Tim remained frozen on the spot. “Thanks for… thanks.” He ended lamely, hanging up. Crystal looked very pale.

“I…” Tim started. How could he convince Stephanie’s mother that all would work out? No words would do the job.

Stephanie interrupted them. Her voice drifting closer as she tripped down the main staircase, blissfully ignorant.

“I went with the dark green. I like green. Dark green.” She paused when two pale faces stared back at her. Tim struggled to reconcile how beautiful she was with the fact that the pair’s mortality was staring them in the face. Tim’s death was always something he accepted as part of his job. Stephanie’s was out of the question.

Her smile tightened; teeth clenched. “What’s wrong?”

Crystal sniffed in a way that indicated she was going to cry, and left the two alone, slamming the door shut on her daughter in a manner that made Stephanie baffled. She turned back to Tim, who seemed to grow more upset by the moment.

“What’s going on?”

Tim absentmindedly tugged on the little cap sleeve of the dress, admiring it on her.

“I’ll tell you on the way.” As Stephanie followed him to the car, she looked back at her house, worried for her mother.

It was a silent drive to the restaurant, this time with the radio off and the engine in general being quiet in the drive through the city. It was awful, tense and uncomfortable. Stephanie watched as Tim’s eyes flittered everywhere, the windows, the mirrors, the road and her. He was panicking a little.

She kept quiet until they approached the restaurant. Then Tim spoke unprompted.

“We’ll have to go back to the manor after this. Bruce called me, says another couple has died. Same designer.”

Slowly, Stephanie turned to look at Tim. He was trying to stay focused, as if pulling up to valet parking involved particularly difficult manoeuvres.

“Three times isn’t a coincidence.” She stated.

“No.” His knuckles were white from gripping the wheel so tightly.

“Those poor people.”

Tim let the air come out of his chest in a woosh whilst Steph stared at her palms resting in her lap. He reached across with one hand and took hers. Intertwining the fingers, she observed his beautiful but scarred hands. Another moment of thoughtful silence ensued.

“You okay to keep going?”

She forced a smile. “Bruce’ll solve it in no time.”

It was only part of the way through their soup did Tim drop his little spoon with a clatter. They had been trying to do small talk, being aggressively cutesy in sight of the other restaurant patrons and staff, but it was difficult, as neither of their moods were particularly lending themselves to lying.

“…Tim?”

He looked at her, pale blue eyes wide from fear. His adams apple bobbed in his thin neck.

“Stephanie.” He said, standing up so quickly his chair fell back, and the table rattled. The crystal champagne glasses shuddered, and the china made an awful clang. Stephanie made an _oopf_ noise and rested her hand over the glasses to prevent spillage.

“Sweetie, what’s wron…” She trailed off as Tim moved to her side of the table and knelt down in front of her. She began to hiss. “No! Now?”

Tim reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a little black box. “We have to speed it up.”

Stephanie felt she was close to hyperventilating, eyes flitting to the other customers surrounding their central table.

“You should have warned me! Not in public…”

“It had to be.” Tim retorted. He knew how much she hated it. He did also. If he ever did propose, it would be in private, because no-one else mattered for that moment. Only he and the person he proposed to should matter, not faceless people voyeuristically watching them. But neither of them were going to get what they wanted. Not for now at least.

Stephanie did not need to dig for her surprised face, as she burst into tears the moment Tim popped open the box. Sat inside was possibly the largest ring she had ever seen.

It was hideous.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” She screeched, slapping the table. People who were already staring from the proposal dropped their food in their lap at the swearing woman.

Blowing her nose extra hard on the fancy serviette, she tried to bring her emotions back to dignified. However, every time she caught sight of the hunking stones glittering in the dim light, she lost it.

Six dead people were hanging over her head she was stuck in a dress she didn’t buy there were more cutlery pieces on the table than ordered courses and he had dropped this on her with _no warning_ and okay fine she knew in the back of her head it was coming but _still –_

Tim leaned back slightly, not sure what to make of it, if her shock and rage was directed at him or herself. Heavily hinting at her, he tried to get the proposal back on track and smiled lopsidedly. “That’s a yes, right?”

The _bastard_ …

“Fuck! You stupid shit, fuck!” She caught glances of neighbouring tables and tried to smile, though she couldn’t see much clearly from her stinging eyes. There was no point trying to verbalise that she was insulting herself, not the poor boy on the floor in front of her. 

God, her eyes just wouldn’t stop watering and she couldn’t feel any more like the kind of women she made fun of on reality tv shows. “Yes, I will marry you! Yes, yes, yes!”

There was a painfully awkward pause as she didn’t know what to do next. Entering panic mode, Tim punched her leg, making her spasm down off the chair into his arms. He hoped her outburst would be read in an eccentric relatable manner, and not the freak out of a woman who could really do with an acting class or two.

A few tables were clapping politely, probably more miffed than endeared to the couple. Tim rocked Steph from side to side.

“Okay?” He whispered, conscious of the fact that she may have genuinely gone into shock.

“That ring is hideous, Tim.” She blubbered into his ear.

“Well, it’s only for two months.” He muttered, more than a little dejected. God, he hoped – if he got the chance to offer it – that she would like the promise ring more.

“Hoo!” She leaned back from the embrace, head facing the ceiling. Her cat eyeliner look that she had painstakingly applied had flooded down her cheeks. Tim’s collar felt a little wet, and would no doubt be stained black. She smiled in a way that reminded Tim of a hyena. “Oh, wow! What a ring. Oh _sweetheart_...”

Tim nodded and nodded and nodded like a ventriloquist doll and pulled it out of its case, flinging aside the box with exaggerated disinterest.

“All yours! For as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked down as he slid it on. It weighed heavily on her finger.

She tugged Tim closer to her, bumping their foreheads together. She clung tight to his hair, and he could feel her trembling.

“Fuck.” She whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Steph…”

“Love you.” She said. The suddenness of it seemed to surprise them both, and to cover it up she kissed Tim. Actions were easier than words, they always had been with him.

The reality of what they had undertaken came crashing down on her, and she dreaded the morning to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time the investigation begins and the news breaks of a high society wedding on the horizon... 
> 
> If you want, look up David Morris, Astteria and Graff jewellery. All British. All ridiculously fancy and expensive. The engagement ring is a David Morris high jewellery design, whilst Steph's promise ring is Astteria, and is five and half thousand quid... so... expensive... but also one of their cheaper rings and not that sapphire knuckle duster (price on admission...ooft lads). Graff is also very fancy.
> 
> As always, a kudos and a comment blow my little mind, and I will see you in a couple of weeks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the designer is made, the news gets into the world, Tim and Stephanie lie and handle it with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank thank you for the hits and kudos. Thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> This is...a...slow...chapter. So bear with me.

Bruce couldn’t help it, he did a double take seeing the ring on Stephanie’s finger when the pair returned from their engagement dinner. Stephanie’s face was dirty, like she had been crying, and there were black smears down Tim’s shirt.

Well, Tim said he would speed things along.

Bruce cradled the batman suit’s cowl as the two stepped forward. Stephanie seemed a little shell shocked.

“Nice ring.” Bruce quipped.

Tim laughed uncomfortably. “I got it from Donahue's… the guy said your dad used to shop there.”

This was not news to Bruce. “He did… A bit overpriced if you ask me. You bought a new ring?”

Tim tilted his head like Ace did when the dog got confused. “As opposed to?”

“Your mother’s –”

“No.” Stephanie interrupted before Bruce could shoot himself in the foot. She watched Tim’s body tighten, then relax as she spoke. “I wanted this. Mrs Drake’s jewellery belongs to Tim, and it’s not to be gifted to me for a mission.”

Tim was staring off into the middle distance. His mother had come from old money and had carried forward pieces that everyone loved. His father had admired them for the craftmanship, whilst Tim had loved them because his mother always looked lovely in her necklaces, rings, bracelets and brooches. Of the two or three times he’s seen her wear that beautiful tiara, Tim had gawked like a fish. She had been buried with her engagement and wedding rings, for whatever that marriage meant to her, appearances mattered more. His father had deeply mourned her, if only for a moment.

Bruce put on the cowl, changing the subject.

“I want you both to follow. Watch from a distance and see if you see anything I miss.”

Tim moved towards the costume cases. “You’re talking to the designer?”

“She’s our only connecting factor. Best place to start.”

Stephanie brushed at her cheeks, impossibly smearing her face even more.

“Give me a moment.”

When she left, Tim looked back at Batman.

“Where are they? My mother’s jewellery.”

If he were honest, he had lost track of his parents estates and what he inherited in the year after his father’s death. So much had happened, so much had gone wrong, things like inheritance tax and photo albums, clothes, jewellery and debts had gotten lost in the rush.

He had trusted Bruce to see it all through after Tim was adopted, and look after it Bruce did.

“In the family vault. I can send Alfred to collect pieces if you would like.”

Tim nodded.

“Hurry up and get dressed.”

The designer, Rebecca Andrews, was a woman in her forties. Stick thin, as many designers seemed to be, and owlish in expression. She had almost grey skin, and had bigger bags under her eyes then Bruce on his worst of days. Mousy brown hair and eyes, she reminded Stephanie of her own mother a decade ago. Someone sick with worry, and someone who had turned to other means of coping.

Through her large open windows, it seemed she was trying to hang up on someone on the phone, before Batman interrupted her night. She was afraid.

When she finally put the phone down, Red Robin and Batgirl watched as Batman entered the apartment.

Batman did his usual, catching the poor woman off guard, allowing her to jump a mile and spill coffee everywhere. When she recognized the shape of the cowl, she began to sob.

“Oh God! No please, I haven’t hurt anyone I swear.”

She began to sob, shoulders heaving with the intensity of her crying.

“Who then?”

“I don’t know! I swear I don’t know.” Seeing Batman was only here to talk, she continued to cry, pacing wildly back and forth, arms swinging around. Completely dramatic, but she _was_ a fashion designer, Stephanie and Tim supposed internally. “My dresses… I don’t know! My poor brides! I don’t know if it’s a pissed off former bride of mine… a nasty colleague – but no, everyone likes me – or just…someone who hates marriages. Or me. But why me! Why those poor couples!”

“Are you married yourself?”

The question seemed to surprise her. “No. On and off boyfriend. But he would _never_ –”

Her phone began buzzing aggressively. She gulped, trying to ignore it.

When it stopped, she opened her mouth to speak, but the phone lit up again. Batman stared pointedly at it. Mumbling to herself, she answered the phone.

“Honey, please… I’m okay. Listen… I’ll call you back. No, I’m not alone. I’m okay, but someone’s with me. Yes… yes… okay. Love you too. I’ll call you in a bit. Okay. Bye. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up, and looked guiltily at Batman, who remained in the shadows of the wealthy apartment.

“On and off boyfriend?” He asked, voice deliberately and threateningly quiet.

Rebecca nodded. “He’s worried about me. People will notice the connections. My business is going to take a hit… It’s so difficult to stay afloat in the fashion industry and something like this…”

Stephanie blinked and tilted her head while she listened.

“I don’t think she’s self-sabotaging.” Tim whispered. She inclined her head to indicate she heard and agreed with Tim, and then continued watching. The pair were perched on a neighbouring roof, peering in, picking up on the conversation through Batman’s little microphone that was designed for this very purpose. The night had gotten a little cold, and Tim and Stephanie whilst waiting had ended up leaning towards each other. At one point Tim had reached over her for something, and when he had pulled back, his cape had remained around her shoulders. Stephanie didn’t throw it off.

Rebecca had taken a step closer to Batman, suddenly hopeful. “Are you going to investigate? Make sure I don’t get accused of something I haven’t done? My reputation as a designer, my relationship with the men and women I work with…”

“Six people have died.” That was reason enough for Batman. Andrews blinked, remembering herself.

“Yes, yes. Of course, I’m sorry. Those people deserve justice. I’m sorry.”

Her phone began buzzing again, and when she looked down, she cringed.

“Ms Andrews.” Batman spoke over the buzzing phone, demanding she ignore it. “You have no clue who could be targeting the women and their husbands who purchase your bridal wear?”

She only looked down at her phone. She then deliberately shook her head.

“Please help me.” She pleaded. “Before anyone else is targeted, before I sink and everything I’ve spent decades building falls to dust.”

Just by looking at the woman, all three vigilantes could see she was no threat, so nothing more could be learned on this night. The insistent boyfriend was annoying, but it was possible that he was just nervous for the frail looking woman’s health in the aftermath of what would no doubt be a massive scandal.

The buzzing phone finally got to be too much for her, and she walked away from Batman to answer it.

“Sweetheart please I…”

She turned back around, and Batman was gone. Tim and Stephanie watched as she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hmm.” Tim groaned.

“She knows something.”

“She does.” Batman agreed, appearing behind the two. Looking at Red Robin, he stated, “You’ll make a public statement tomorrow at work to confirm the engagement.” He turned to Stephanie. “Try to go to college as normal tomorrow.”

“Try?”

Red Robin sighed at Stephanie’s confrontational tone. He pulled out his grapple, ready to shoot away.

“Batgirl… if it gets to be too much, call one of us, we’ll come pick you up.”

Stephanie watched the two men go, then connected on her line to Wendy and Babs, beginning her own night of patrol. It would give her the chance to think of something else other than Tim and that ring that currently sat nestled in her shoes back at the manor.

Stephanie refused to look at her phone the rest of that night. The following morning, when her alarm went off and she clicked it silent, she saw so many notifications and messages, out of sheer panic, she ignored all of them.

Feeling overwhelmed, she begrudgingly put on the ring, got in her car, and went to college. She had a lecture and a seminar in the morning, then work on a presentation in the library to occupy her mind. She sat in the very front of the lecture hall, off to the side, so no-one could pass or catch her eye outside of the professor, so she managed to get through the lecture with no one noticing she was sat at the front.

When the lecture ended, she waited a couple of minutes before she got up to leave. When she did though, the professor waltzed over to her.

“I saw the news last night,” She whispered. Stephanie froze, hand buried in her backpack, hiding the ring from sight. The lecturer only seemed pleased for her, though, and Stephanie held her breath. “I just wanted to say, congratulations, Stephanie.”

Stephanie couldn’t help it and smiled at her lecturer. “Thank you. Tim is…he’s…” She found herself unable to finish, but it seems Professor Choi seemed to think her speechlessness was from a bursting sense of happiness, and not a knot at the base of her gut, stifling her brain of any quick-witted thought.

Professor Choi smiled widely, then left Stephanie in her seat. Staring at the large projector screen, she shuddered herself into the present, got up from her seat, and bolted to her seminar.

She was early, very early, but decided waiting like an overly keen first year in the corridor until the room was emptied of its occupants was the preferable option. She instinctively checked her phone, in a routine movement to distract herself, and was met by her dozens and dozens of notifications. Messages from people she hadn’t spoken to in years, who had hunted her down on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, private messages and public posts. Congratulatory, accusatory, all of them questioning. Doubtful.

She had hoped that the large and mighty Waynes would have made a statement by now: _so happy so pleased but please respect Stephanie “She’s a private citizen so back off” Brown’s space_. But as far she could tell, browsing through endless gossip sites, nothing official had been released.

She resisted from reading any of the comments. She didn’t hate herself that much. One article had taken to using screenshots of tweets scattered through the page. Every moment, every comment – negative or positive – made her feel sicker and more cornered.

“Stephanie?” She looked up from her phone to see gathering members of the class staring at her.

Her expression, frozen in distress, made her classmates uncomfortable. Twitching, she neutralised it, and pocketed her phone. One girl blinked, then started with a,

“I saw yesterday that Ti—”

“Did you get a chance to look at the Derrida article?” She interrupted, shuffling in her bag for the printout. She wouldn’t let anybody else make her feel small. “I swear to God I can’t understand a word he says and that’s after he’s been translated.”

“Christ, that’s a rock and a half.”

Before she could derail the conversation to college classes, one of the boys had come up behind her and grabbed her left hand, tugging it towards him. Panicked, she ripped it back.

“Don’t do that.” She said, thrusting both hands in her coat pockets. She tried to keep her temper in check.

Another girl looked on sympathetically, and tried to sound happy for Stephanie, but instead all she felt was patronised. “I heard he did it at dinner? You’re so lucky Steph.”

Stephanie knew now she was going to have to lie. She was going to have to be happy. Over the moon. In love and without a care for who knew it. She swallowed.

“It was a long time coming, I think.” She tried to giggle.

The guy who had grabbed her hand forced his way back into Stephanie’s eyeline. He didn’t believe her. Funny, considering they had never said more than hello to the other.

“How long have you been dating?”

“On and off since he was fourteen.”

Oh boy. She better let Tim know that apparently was their dating story. For all she knew he had an utterly different plot in mind.

The guy looked more than a little taken aback. Another girl (Clara? If Steph remembered right, which she probably wasn’t), gasped.

“You’ve known him that long?”

That, Stephanie didn’t have to lie about.

“Mm! We went to different high schools at first, but I ran into him in town one night. Spent a lot of time together after the quake. We both went to Gotham Heights before he…”

“Dropped out to live the high life?”

Stephanie tried not to bark back. Gritting her teeth, she ground out, “It was a difficult year for him.”

It was enough to make one girl look embarrassed.

“Well, congrats anyway. Enjoy the WAG life.”

“She’s not a footballer’s wife, Dan.”

If it was supposed to be a joke, Stephanie couldn’t bring herself to laugh. The questions and stares did not stop, not even after the classroom emptied and her own seminar began. The number of people she felt staring at her left hand in the small room made her feel increasingly claustrophobic. She tried to focus on the discussion but instead her mind wandered, as it was prone to do, and instead she felt increasingly paranoid that people were watching her. She could feel her phone continue to buzz as more and more notifications came through. People were wanting her to say something, as if she owed them anything.

But that was the point. This was supposed to be grand and attention grabbing and fully in the public eye. But why hadn’t Tim and Bruce taken control? They were the ones in the public eye, not her. What were they even doing up that black bricked tower of theirs? Stamping title deeds? Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, someone would invade Stephanie’s personal space, whispering conspiratorially as if she knew or cared who they were. Like they were old friends ready for some gossip.

“How did he propose anyway?”

“Didn’t you see? It was at The Golden Bell.”

“No way. Place is fancy.”

“Told you. WAG.”

“Shut _up,_ Dan.”

“Can’t believe you’re gonna have Bruce _Wayne_ for a dad-in-law.”

“Or Dick Grayson for a brother-in-law.”

“Keep dreaming, Mel.”

“ _I will._ ”

Stephanie smiled like a skull, teeth bared and eyes empty, as the conversations went through her. She contributed nothing, confirmed nothing, denied nothing, and just smiled.

The seminar ended, with not much productive being discussed. Stephanie told herself it was because the writing they were to study was impossible to decipher anyway, and it had nothing to do with the large sapphires and diamonds on her left hand.

She knew she had work to do, so needed to head to the campus library for the afternoon, but it seemed the university was not off limits to nosy people with cameras, who had started to put together who the mystery blonde was that Mr Drake was engaged to. Mr Wayne. Whatever.

Stephanie wished she had a hood to pull up, or sunglasses to put on, or something to help hide her face, but instead she was accosted by people she had only ever seen once or twice on campus. They seemed curious in a good-natured way, but Stephanie knew how quickly that could turn around. She gripped her backpack tightly, forgetting this only served to put the ring on full display, and made her way to the library, crossing campus with a retinue of strangers asking questions and dozens of curious stares and photos.

Honestly, it sucked.

It was Jordanna, of all people that came to her rescue. It was entirely self-serving, Stephanie knew it as such instantly, but still, a shrill voice telling people to fuck off was really channelling Stephanie's inner mood.

People began to dissipate, Jordanna throwing the stink eye at anyone who dared look at Stephanie for more than two seconds.

When Stephanie finally made it to the library and through the barriers, out of sight of anyone who wasn’t a student, Jordanna practically ripped Stephanie’s left arm out of its socket.

“You bitch!” Stephanie heard the happy tone, but the word still cut right through her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been dating one of the Waynes?”

“I didn’t want people to judge me.”

“Too late for that! Lemme see the rock.” She pulled at Stephanie’s arm to inspect the ring. She whistled, impressed by its size. Stephanie tried to take her hand back, but Jordanna was insistent. “Can I try it on?”

“No.”

“I’m your maid of honor right?”

_Jesus, no._

Stephanie laughed, trying to keep the mood light. Internally, she felt close to shitting herself. Who was her MoH? Cass? Probably Cassandra. Did Cassandra even know about this? Did she approve? Did she even know how to help plan a wedding?

“It’s early days you know. Not even been twenty-four hours yet.”

Jordanna continued to inspect the ring, musing something over. Stephanie turned every now and then when she felt eyes on her, sure enough always catching someone turning away a slither of a second too late. Her gut bubbled in an explosive mix of nerves, anger, and guilt.

“Well,” Jordanna finished her analysis, dropping Stephanie’s hand finally. “Ignore what anyone says, yeah? You’ve hit the jackpot, and – coming from a jealous bitch – people are gonna be jealous.”

“...Thanks, Jordanna.”

“Call me your bodyguard for the rest of the year.”

Stephanie smirked. “Want anything in return?”

“One on one meeting with Dick Grayson. Or Bruce Wayne. I can go older.”

“Ooft.”

“Deal?”

Stephanie nodded slowly, walking back towards the opening elevator. “I’ll personally introduce you at the wedding.”

“Oh, so I’m def invited?”

Stephanie stepped inside, laughing for real this time. “Pinkie swear.”

Jordanna responded by flipping her off. “I want more details tomorrow!”

The doors closed before Stephanie could respond. As she rose up, she stared at the floor. There were two other people in the lift, and thankfully they kept themselves to themselves. Elevator etiquette kicking in. She collapsed at a spare desk away in the back corner of the floor, away from windows, discussion areas and shelves, and tried to focus on work.

Tim meanwhile, was on the receiving end of a bit of a stressful day. He had ordered Thai takeout for lunch, only to find he was not going to get much time to eat it. Various people from HR to Marketing to other members of the board were suddenly calling him.

“Please confirm your engagement is real this time.”

Yes.

_No._

“Please give the name and any relevant details of your partner.”

Stephanie Brown, 20, high school sweetheart, private person.

_Please leave her alone._

“How long is the engagement to last?”

Have no set plans yet. Hoping for a larger wedding all of Gotham can enjoy with us.

_Won’t last the end of the year._

“Will this impact your role in the company?”

No.

_No._

Tim tried to read over a report to help plan the next local community group he wanted to set up, but every five minutes another head poked through his door and interrupted his train of thought.

His bland smile was starting to crack.

Giving up, he prodded at his noodles for lunch in his office. When he’d eaten enough, he threw open his window and trashed the overpowering smell of the curry. He went to hunt down Bruce.

As he walked through the offices, assorted folk poked their noses out from their cubicles of frosted glass to offer a quick congratulations. Some were more aggressive in their questions.

_Who the fuck is Stephanie Brown?_ Their tone implied.

_None of your business,_ Tim tried to stop himself from biting back.

This mission required them to step into a role of high society sweethearts, when what Tim wanted more than anything was to be curled up in the corner of a café with her, or sat on the highest roofs watching the world go by. He didn’t want to have to speak about her and _them_ to publications, he didn’t want photographs of _them_ online for strangers to see and comment on as if their opinion mattered. Putting on the Wayne persona was bad enough. He understood better than ever Bruce’s dilemma. At no point during the day or night did he not feel like he was wearing some sort of mask, and he was becoming exhausted from the emotional labour it involved. He briefly thought about his stressful nightmares, if they were a contributory factor or a result.

It was a weight he didn’t want for Stephanie. Batgirl was who she was as much as Stephanie Brown was Steph. Future Mrs Tim however…

Tim glared holes into Bruce’s office doors, working up the courage to knock.

He wanted to be with Stephanie, but he wanted it to be real as much as she did (or at least, he strongly suspected that she did, breathless declaration of love last night providing the most recent hint). But he didn’t want her to lie like he did, to feel tugged in two or three different directions until you couldn’t even remember what you _truly_ felt anymore. It was a feeling Tim had grown increasingly aware of – a complete disassociation from the expression on his face and words from his mouth versus what was going through his head. Sometimes his thoughts would match what he put out to the world, until something in him jolted, and his real feelings shot to the surface – uncomfortable and angry that they had been disregarded. Real Tim was becoming a novelty to himself, let alone his family and friends.

And here was a related problem. Both he and Steph were deeply private people. They enjoyed the company of others for a time, sure, but a small group of close friends was always preferable than many acquaintances.

Stephanie especially. She didn’t have many friends period. For whatever reason, people didn’t really take to her. There was Cass, of course, and Kara… Tim blanked thinking of anyone from her university. Was she lonely?

Not for the first time, Tim wondered if he could introduce Conner, Bart and Cassie to her. Properly. Without involving her being dangled off buildings or awkward small talks about how she wasn’t dead.

Tim continued to stare at the dark wood plaque announcing BRUCE WAYNE in all capitals. It seemed that Bruce sensed someone was outside his office, as he opened the door with a bemused look on his face that quickly became sharp when he saw it was Tim lingering outside like a lost kitten.

“Okay?”

Tim started, unsure how to answer the question aside from the obvious – no.

“Need your help.”

That was the right thing to say. At the end of the day Bruce loved to help, especially if it meant taking control of a situation, and Tim watched as Bruce’s eyebrows twitched. He backed into his office, Tim following and shutting the door behind them.

“What is it?”

“Can you make a statement? About me and Steph.”

Bruce squinted, like he didn’t understand what Tim was asking. Blowing his hair off his forehead, Tim tried again.

“I’ve been trying to put one together and getting nowhere, and now loads of people are up my butt about it and I messaged Steph but I think if her phone is anything like mine it’s gotten lost in the crush of notifications and I can’t call her ‘cause she might be in class and… I just think, people will listen and take this all more serious if it comes from you.”

“You think people take me seriously?”

That made Tim chew on his tongue. He and Bruce entered a staring match.

“A statement would be appreciated.”

“Hmm.”

“Please?”

“Hmm.”

Tim’s relationship with Bruce just seemed to be tumbling down into a gorge ever since he was sixteen and he didn’t know who was more to blame or who should make the first step at healing. With Dick and Bruce, it had been Dick consistently offering an olive branch, sometimes of his own offering, then sometimes with Tim or Babs’ encouragement. It took Bruce’s broken back and everything with Bane and Azrael to really kick start the process. Tim hoped something as traumatic as that wouldn’t be necessary to mend bridges.

Time to play dirty.

“You said you would defend her. Do it pre-emptively.”

“I also said I would leave the details in your care.”

“And this is a detail I am telling you to do for us.”

“Telling?”

“Asking.” Tim backed down, dry swallowing. “Begging.”

Another stare off ensued. Then Bruce’s office phone rang, and Tim breathed when Bruce broke off the eye contact.

“Morning Meghan!” It was eery how Bruce’s expression had not changed, but the voice that spoke into the phone was light and carefree. “Oh. Afternoon. Yes, sorry.”

Tim checked his watch. Half two. Bruce looked up at Tim, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Is she? Of course, please let her up. Can you add her to the list of people who can be let in regardless of appointment? Yup. Yup. Thank you.” He hung up then and ran a hand across his face, looking a little stressed. “Cassandra is here.”

“Okay?”

This wasn’t anything odd. Cassandra should have had free reign of the building anyway.

“She brought Stephanie.”

Immediately Tim was out of Bruce’s office and into the main workspace. He rushed past many people sat within the open workspace to get to the elevator, whereupon when the doors opened, Stephanie took only a moment to register it was Tim standing in front of her, and threw herself into his arms. He caught her, a little thrown off by her desperation and sudden appearance.

She looked a state. Cassandra looked a little too angry at him. People in the office were staring.

“Hey…”

“I’m sorry. I know this is probably crap timing or…”

“No. Come on. It’s fine. Bruce is in his office.” Tim tried not to think about how often she had apologised to him the past few weeks. It wasn’t like her.

And Cassandra promptly went straight to Bruce’s office. It wasn’t too unusual for the Wayne children to pop in and out of the office as they pleased. This organisation had its nepotistic perks and yet somehow continued to turn massive profits. But still, this was a little unusual, having a fiancée come crashing through looking more than a little stressed.

Stephanie clung to Tim for a moment longer. She was shaking. Instinctively, protectively, he buried his cheek into hers, trying to be a reassuring wall for her. He felt her hands tighten around his shoulder blades.

When Stephanie caught people staring at her over Tim’s shoulder, she panicked, and let go of Tim.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t… I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t normally this out of it or unsure of herself, so immediately Tim knew that something had gone wrong this morning. Holding her hand, he led her to Bruce’s office quickly, not letting anyone get a good look at her.

When they got inside, Cassandra shutting the door and putting a glass of cold water into Stephanie’s hand, her anger sparked. Stephanie threw the water on a nearby potted plant. Tim groaned. It was a fake plastic one, and just resulted in a sad wet patch on the floor. Stephanie ignored it, huffing.

“Why hasn’t there been a statement about this yet?”

She was directing it at the room, and Tim’s shoulders tensed.

“I was just asking Bruce to put one out for us!”

“Why didn’t you have one ready?”

“Because I wasn’t supposed to propose last night and –”

“And _what_? There are twenty-four hours in the day and you just waltzed into work this morning with nothing to show?”

Cassandra had moved to stand behind Stephanie whilst Bruce watched Tim and Steph argue back and forth.

“I’m telling Bruce now –”

“I got chased out of campus.” Stephanie said, turning to Bruce. Her eyes were red, still a little damp, and her cheeks were flushed with colour. Cassandra glowered behind Stephanie, upset at her friend’s distress. “I can’t even bury myself in the library ‘cause people just won’t leave me alone and I had to call Cass because both of you were too busy and not answering your phones… You said you wouldn’t let this happen.”

Bruce watched as Tim’s face flushed red. A shameful minute passed with nothing being said, Bruce seemed to have been deep in thought. Finally, frustrated with their unhelpfulness, Stephanie tugged off her backpack. “You got a place for me to work?”

“Pardon?”

She rolled her eyes like Bruce was missing the obvious.

Ever since Bruce had come back from his whirlwind tour of time, and ever since Steph had slapped him in the face (sorry Bruce) she had shed much of her need for his validation. She had found it in Barbara, in Leslie, in Cassandra and Tim, and in Gotham itself. So old fuddy duddy in a bat mask (hers was better) didn’t mean much to her anymore.

Or so she told herself.

She put her foot down. If she was having to go through such a stressful mission, Bruce was going to have to _endure_ her as a daughter-in-law. She almost felt sorry for him.

“I am going to sit here and study whilst you make your statement about how happy you are to have me join the brood.” She looked around Bruce’s imposing build to look at his desk. It didn’t look particularly comfortable. “Where’s your desk Tim?”

Tim jumped to action and held out a hand for her to take. “I have my own office. Come on.”

“Wait.” Cassandra called. She came forward with a wet tissue, dabbing under Stephanie’s eyes to remove the puffiness. “You came with me.” She explained, looking deliberately at her father and brother. “We had some chores to run in town, and we ended up staying for a bit.”

Stephanie sniffed, staring at the mascara streaks on her tissue. “That works.”

Tim took the tissue from Cassandra and tugged Stephanie out.

The office immediately hushed when they made their way down the hall. Tim smiled gregariously at folk, Stephanie looking straight ahead and avoiding eye contact.

Tim’s office was bright and clean, with two bookcases lined with folders and reports, and a glass desk which had a very nice-looking laptop perched in the centre.

“You mind sitting on the couch? I need to be near the phone.” He took Stephanie’s bag from her and rested it on the leather seat. Throwing the tissue in the bin, he pulled out more for Stephanie, as well as a large bottle of water. Sitting down next to her as she unpacked her stuff, Tim tried to apologise.

“I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

“Steph… we can stop if you –”

“No.” She glared at him, firm. “I am not going through all this for nothing. People won’t let me study, fine, I’ll get Bruce to defer my last semester a year and make him pay every penny towards my fees, or I’ll make him put barriers everywhere on campus so only students can get in, and make him give a fat legal threat for anyone who _looks_ at me the wrong way. Or I’ll drop out and demand he gives me two million a year for the rest of my life or –”

“Only two million?”

Tim’s interruption made her snort a laugh. Tim smiled at her smile, glad to see it on her. She exhaled and leaned back against the leather, her pile of papers waiting to be attended to. Tim watched as she closed her eyes and calmed down, her chest rising and falling steadily.

“I don’t know how you do it, Tim.”

“Do what?”

She opened her eyes and looked straight at him, head still resting on the back of the sofa. Her blonde hair was splayed out over the dark brown leather. He could not stop staring.

Her lower lip was chapped.

“Put that young CEO smile on your face. That public figure you inhabit. Lying to the world all the time...I’ve been going potty from one morning of it. I don’t know how you cope.”

“Honestly Steph...” He sighed, and Stephanie’s hair fluttered. He hadn’t realised he had moved so close, practically leaning over her. “I don’t think I do. I am pretty... Split into so many fractures. Getting harder to know which one is really me.”

That made Stephanie sit up, Tim moving back so their heads didn’t bump.

“Is that... Tim.” Stephanie seemed unable to find the words. Frustrated, she turned to physical comfort, and not for the first time did Tim note how quickly she abandoned her own difficulties for someone else’s. Tim was weak, though, and allowed her to do so. Steph reached out and rested a hand on Tim’s bicep. He responded in kind to a hand on her waist. Her hand crept up and her fingertips pressed to his cheek. Not quite a caress, but it was something. “Tim, I know you. Even if you don’t. I won’t let you forget.”

Briefly he remembered her rant when he had returned to Gotham. _Who are you?_ She had screamed. He had so nearly completely lost his way, and she had been so frightened for him. But then she had also said in the past that she would love him regardless of Robin… regardless of that suit.

Tim somewhat doubted this was true, as he doubted that she knew him.

And yet, why else would she had been so desperate to know who was behind that mask after she had given birth. Robin hadn’t helped her with that, _Tim_ had. Except she couldn’t put a name to that boy. When he had that split second of giving up on Batman after his sixteenth birthday, she had been the only person who wouldn’t have been cut off from either side of his life. She knew him. She’d learned to insist on it.

Stephanie’s eyes fluttered, as she realised they were gazing at each other. She also realised it was the first time in a while that they were alone. Tim also seemed to realise this simultaneously. Her hand shifted, slowly, fingers moving back into his hair, repeating the motion over and over again, a comforting caress. It felt good.

“Steph,” His hand twitched on her waist. “Last night…”

“Mm?”

“You said that you lo—”

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Tim cursed himself for not speaking sooner. He just wanted her to _talk_ to him…

Bruce entered, holding a phone in his hand. Stephanie stood up as if she had been caught doing something naughty, whilst Tim tried to not let his upset of her moving away show. Bruce held out the cell phone to Stephanie.

“A new phone, new number. Use it for the family and your mother. People who matter.” Stephanie took it gratefully. “Also, Tim and I have made two separate statements.”

“Have we?”

“We have.” Tim reluctantly stood up to stand behind Stephanie. “Check your phone Tim.”

Doing as he was told, Tim brought up twitter, seeing on the trending page that there were some fluffy words: “constant companion”, “proud”, “lucky”, “want to share out happiness”, “please consider”…Honestly to the two of them it sounded like garbage, but the replies were, for the most part (Stephanie didn’t miss how quickly Tim scrolled past those), positive.

“Humm.” Stephanie said, reading the screen, casually holding onto Tim’s thin wrist as she craned her neck to look at the two statements. Black text on a white background, Bruce’s monogram decorating the bottom. Very formal. Very quick. “Thank you.”

“Get going with the planning. No more deaths. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” She uttered. She could feel Tim’s dagger glare burning over her shoulder at his father.

Day one had gone the very definition of amateurish. With Bruce gone, Stephanie looked down at the work on the table, sighed aggressively, and pulled up a list of wedding planners. College was going to have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Things are building up if nothing else. Two identity crises to go please (oop identity crisis)... sure that won't impact them badly.
> 
> Next time, the planning and publicity begin in earnest. Tim and Steph finally talk to each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding planning starts, and Tim and Steph sit down for a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This working from home being in isolation thingy... does wonders for writing. Already halfway through Chapter Seven, so you know, regular updates still incoming as and when...
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Tim had no idea there was such a market for wedding planners. He imagined most people planned it themselves. Stephanie had made the very valid point that neither of them had time. Apparently, because she maybe still hated herself a little, she chose possibly the most ridiculous looking woman who came at an equally ridiculous price tag.

“Why’d you choose her?” Tim asked, as the two paced back and forth in one of the drawing rooms of Wayne Manor.

Stephanie was picking a hanging nail. “She had stupid glasses.” She muttered. “Her website screamed ostentatious. That’s what we want right?”

“Well yeah but –”

Alfred opened the door for Mrs van Dijk, and Tim couldn’t help but mutter a curse at the sight of her. Stephanie caught Alfred’s face as he shut the door, to which she noted he seemed quite relieved to be rid of the woman.

Bottle eyed didn’t do it justice. Her glasses seemed an inch thick, and they took up half her face. Humongous brown pupils peered through at Tim as Stephanie very quickly made her way over to him, holding onto his shirt and showing off the ring. Mrs van Dijk’s clothes were seemingly made from rags, and various bits draped across the floor. Her nose was tiny, upturned and pointy. Her teeth were too big for her mouth. She grinned maniacally at the sight of the young couple. She herself somehow looked sixty and thirty at the same time.

Stephanie had picked a winner surely.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I thought for sure I was being pranked when you rang me!” She looked and wandered around the room, utterly fascinated. “And at Wayne Manor no less. I am the luckiest person in the world… Do you mind if I just put my bags here?” The four assorted totes and satchels and rucksacks seemed a bit excessive to Tim, but he nodded, not quite sure what to say. She slapped them down with a delighted squeal.

Nails on a chalkboard. Tim smiled, baring his teeth as they clenched together uncomfortably. Stephanie stepped in, being on the ball for once.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us! And on such short notice too.”

“It’s going to be a rush to get everything done in time.” Tim confirmed.

They all sat down, but then Mrs van Dijk decided she was too far away and stood up. She settled in between Tim and Stephanie, both of whom flinched at having a stranger be so close. They flinched again when she took a hand each and tugged them onto her lap, a little pile of happy hands. Happy sweaty hands. Tim shivered up his spine, and Stephanie’s left leg spasmed at the uncomfortableness of it all.

“I have had a think the past two days.” Van Dijk said earnestly. “You said, Stephanie, you wanted the grandest wedding Wayne money could provide.”

“Yup.”

“I am going to work a little unconventionally. A little traditionally. But you two are the most important clients of my career. I will give you the world.”

“…Thanks.” Tim responded lamely.

“In my thoughts, I see the Cathedral.”

Neither Tim nor Steph were religious.

“I see gold and white.”

Neither were colours they wore nor sought out.

“Carnations for flowers.”

Carnations were for funerals. Tim and Stephanie knew this very well.

“I see the reception here, in the gardens.”

The weather was never good enough to guarantee any event outside.

“And your gown…”

There, Stephanie could not cave in. “I want Rebecca Andrews.”

“Oop! Pardon?” By now word had spread that she was a cursed designer.

“I have my heart set on her you see… Ever since I was younger.”

“…But I… I brought books!” She threw their hands off her lap, Tim rubbing his freed palm against his trousers as the woman fumbled through the tote, tugging out three lever arch files.

“Oh wow… you really prepped for this.”

“I told you! I will give you the world.” And then she sat down, tossing one folder to Tim, and one to Stephanie. Slapping her own open, Mrs van Rijk flipped through pages until she found examples to show Stephanie.

“See? Oh, Mr Wayne wouldn’t you die to see her in this?”

Tim struggled not to swear. “Oh boy.” He said instead.

That seemed too many ruffles for one human body.

Stephanie blinked, and agreed. “No no. I’m sorry, but this is the one area I must put my foot down.”

“…Even though…”

Stephanie smiled reassuringly, and confirmed, “Even though.”

Mrs van Rijk stared at the huge taffeta construction and sighed sadly. “One day I will get a bride in one of these… Nevermind. I will arrange an appointment with Ms Andrews. Funny lady that one.” As she put the folders back, Tim shot Stephanie a look which amounted to kettle meet pot.

Otherwise, they went with whatever this lady suggested. The only thing both Tim and Steph genuinely liked the idea of was a lemon cake rather than a fruit cake. They told themselves that because it maybe wasn’t even going to reach the altar, what they wanted didn’t really matter. Details were details. What mattered was ensuring they were a target.

Stephanie proceeded to go on a coffee date with Cassandra, who gave the evils in her characteristic manner to anyone creeping to close, and a trip to the arcade with Damian, who grumbled and pretended to shoot a photographer with one of the guns for a zombie shooting game, until Stephanie called him over with the food she had bought him. Tim uploaded an old photograph of them when they were fifteen to his social media pages. Bruce mysteriously went to visit Crystal’s hospital when she was on shift, ensuring that she was seen chatting the Mr Wayne. The picture that went in the news was not the most flattering of Mrs Brown – her expression was nothing short of mystified and in awe that Gotham’s favourite child was talking to her – but it served the same goal as the other outings.

The family was doing everything they could to prove that Stephanie was not just someone out of the blue who had stepped into the role of fiancée for Tim. She was a Gotham girl through and through, her mother worked an admirable job, she was known by the family and spent time with them independent of Tim…Older photos began to be circulated. Old school photos when they both attended Gotham Heights were circulated, as was the fact that she was a student in her final year of Gotham College who volunteered at the clinic on Park Row, just around the corner from Tim’s social housing redevelopment project.

Don’t think of this girl as an upstart, they were practically begging, she’d been a part of Tim and Cassandra and Damian and Bruce’s lives long before anyone cared. Tim, who actually braved reading comments and replies, noted that, for the most part…well they weren’t flat out insulting her. Or him.

For the most part.

That counted for a lot.

Though some of them…

Thankfully Bruce and Dick over many years had cultivated a stock image of a slightly batshit (hah) bonkers family that only seemed to grow with the years in equally odd members. Off kilter, sure, but overall a good family. Thank goodness for Gotham stereotypes.

Next step in becoming a target – an engagement photo shoot.

Tim was not even aware these were a thing, but found himself standing in a full suit a mere three days later. Images to be posted amongst societies circles and to be sent with rsvp invitations. This had been it’s own conflict. None of their superhero friends has been invited, but indeed to everyone, this was for real. Tim had ignored the Titans for days at this point, unable to explain what was going on. There was no pithy explanation.

He had been given a black tux, a dark red suit, a navy shirt and chinos, and a pot of hair gel to style himself. Stephanie, meanwhile, was upstairs, with a veritable army of beauticians, hairdressers and too many dresses to count.

It was raining, because of course it was. But the photography studio had insisted on going forward in the manor gardens.

“We can make it look real Austen and shit.”

Tim really didn’t understand the man’s reference. Said man was holding a camera with a very large lens that Tim suspected wasn’t necessary for this kind of shoot. He had sunglasses on, despite the weather, so Tim knew he was very cool. The four assistants who had been with Stephanie trotted down the stairs, moving quickly to set up lighting. All four looked a little dissapointed, but whatever reason Tim didn't understand.

"Okay?" He asked.

One got in Tim’s face and began fixing his hair. He instinctively flinched away from a stranger in his personal space, but quickly smiled apologetically and allowed her to resume. His gut churned from enduring the uncomfortable closeness.

"It's fine. We just... she's been hurt quite bad hasn't she?"

Tim flinched completely away. It seemed the look in his eyes was enough to make the lady look to the floor, and find something else to work on. Tim's protectiveness was flaring, and he knew it was making others uncomfortable. But he also doubted it was as uncomfortable as Stephanie was having strangers examine her body like that.

“Am I okay to come down now?” Stephanie’s voice drifted in from the top of the staircase, providing a welcome distraction.

The man (Tim couldn’t for the life of him remember the name) immediately became effusive.

“Of course, princess! Let’s see you. You’re in the red dress, right?”

“…Yeah.”

She poked her head around the corner and stared at Tim. She sighed sharply at how handsome he looked. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Can I hold onto you walking down? It’s a lot of skirt…”

Tim didn’t care that she was blatantly lying. He hopped up to the top step, holding out his hand for her to take. When she did take, still half hidden behind the wall, Tim felt her trembling. He looked at her inquisitively.

“My scars…” Was all she could say. She was bent over, blonde hair curled to look like Sleeping Beauty’s. The assistants who had done her hair had made the decision to have it all down in order to hide her upper back, shoulders, collar and arms. She was wearing flowers in her hair, and her makeup made her look otherworldly. Tim realised it was all to draw attention upwards, away from her torso.

Tim squeezed her fingers. Stephanie as a rule did not show skin... not since Black Mask.

“You wore that purple dress, remember? The one I got you? That showed more skin.” He tried to remind her, so she could logic her way up to being confident in the beautiful dresses.

She only shook her head, and he could see her eyes growing frenetic with an increasing panic.

“No-one was paying attention, not like this. People are going to see me.”

He stepped closer, creating a bubble around them that made Steph’s breathing quieten, and her back straightened. Saying she was beautiful wasn’t going to work. Some of her scars, little that he had seen, were not beautiful. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say they were. Stephanie was beautiful; the injuries, the torn skin, the white shiny scars, the mangled puckered wounds… there was no beauty in the experiences that created them. No amount of sweet talking would convince her nor the world of it. But that didn’t mean she was lesser for it. Not even close. He stared straight into her eyes, praying he looked reassuring.

“It’s okay.”

She nodded, and gently, encouragingly, he tugged her forward into the viewpoint of the photography team. It was a strapless crimson gown, with a sweetheart neckline and a large wide skirt that made her waist tiny. The photographer hissed. She looked lovely, but some scars shined in the artificial light. It was going to make tidying up the images awkward.

“Oh.” He stated. Stephanie immediately hid behind Tim, feeling humiliated. “Do we want to hide these in post? Or are we drawing...”

Tim glared in an intensely threatening manner, and the man coughed, correcting himself.

“Doesn’t matter. You both look like royalty. Every time I do one of these shoots… but this must be one of the best.”

His team twittered like little birds in agreement. Stephanie struggled not to roll her eyes at the weak save.

Shots were taken of them walking down the stairs, though Stephanie did manage to trip of the final step, crumpling in a heap on the floor. The man had ensured she was okay, then demanded she remain there. Tim was forced to sit behind her, two or three steps up.

“Fix her hair and dress.” The man commanded. Immediately her position was altered, and her hair was pulled to cover certain patches of skin. Her breathing wobbled.

She wasn’t good enough.

A little off put by having so many people fuss over her, Stephanie reached upwards. Tim gave her his hand, and then quickly, unthinkingly, pressed a kiss to the back of her head. He watched as goosebumps trailed up her back, and he cursed himself a little for even attempting to comfort her.

“Oh!” Shouted the man. “Hold that. Her ring looks good.”

There were four outfits and locations in total – the strapless red gown for Tim’s black tux in the main staircase being the first. For the Thomas Wayne’s library Stephanie perched herself on a leather loveseat armrest, sitting awkwardly and slightly off to the side in her insecurity. Tim had his bowtie removed and three buttons undone, to which he promptly redid one. Stephanie was changed into an off the shoulder green dress with sleeves that split open to expose her arms and hit the floor. The gown had such a deep neckline that Tim’s eyes were drawn to a white scar that went up her sternum. She caught him looking and hissed like an angry cat, unsure if he was staring at her chest or the wound. The golden gown, the one that looked like rays of sun, for the shots in the conservatory was beautiful, but again, Tim could see she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with both the attention and exposure. Repeatedly for couple shots she would start to migrate behind Tim, half hidden away until called out and forced forward. Tim found he couldn’t say anything in front of the photography crew to comfort her. He kept some part of himself connected to her, hoping the touch would ground her. Obviously this was not an option for the solo shots.

She seemed much happier with the final dress. A shorter purple dress with feathers all along the hem. It had a high neck and long sleeves. Tim couldn’t help it, he laughed as she brushed through the bird feathers. She shivered in her bare legs though and begged to put on a pair of tights. The man narrowed his eyes, or at least Tim thought he did behind those glasses, but agreed.

“Some posed shots.” He said, staring down into his viewfinder. “Then go frolic outside.”

“Frolic?” Stephanie raised on eyebrow, and Tim mirrored it.

“Outside?”

Tim took off his blazer as he and Stephanie questioned the photographer in between snaps being taken. Steph grabbed a hold of Tim’s shoulder to balance as she zipped up a boot. The rain was coming down as hard as ever.

“Yes. We need some natural shots.”

His assistant opened the double window doors, cold air blasting its way in. Rainwater dripped inside, and Tim shuddered at the fit Alfred would have. The water crept dangerously close to one of the rugs, and even Stephanie made a panicked _oomph_ noise, and she rushed out front into the pouring rain, hoping that the quicker this round was done the sooner these people would pack up and leave and she could return to flat shoes. Her heels were starting to ache to the point of distraction.

Tim rushed out after her, resisting the urge to yell at the frigid water which immediately soaked him to the bone. Stephanie looked back at him, her dress clinging in all the right ways, hair a sodden blanket. She was laughing from the shock of how cold it was.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this?” He yelled over the sound of the rain hitting the paving stones. Stephanie just laughed and held out her arms for him to step into. Her makeup was starting to run, but rather than making her look like a drowned rat, she looked lively and bright. Her face flushed red from the cold, and Tim willingly went straight into her hold.

She brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning at the face she saw underneath. Still so pale, with such dark bruises under his eyes. Still not sleeping well. But he was happy, at least for the moment. She didn’t want her moodiness ruin that for him.

Stephanie couldn’t get that moment of the kiss to her hair out of her mind, nor could Tim stop thinking about the declaration of love and kiss on the lips she had given him last week. They were stumbling in the dark, seeking physical comfort in each other, and both knew how dangerous it was. Simultaneously, and without mentioning it to the other, they resolved to corner the other. Soon.

Until then, when the photographer called for them to kiss, it was Stephanie who cradled Tim’s face and pulled him close. It was the kind of kiss that they made when they were adolescents: enthusiastic, clumsy, but infatuated. Stephanie tried to convince herself that it was just another kiss for the job, like the ones one their dates and engagement dinners, but as always the sharp stab of enjoyment that came with Tim’s smiling kisses made her shiver and doubt. She squished his cheeks and laughed when they broke apart, and when she tried to leave Tim’s hold and playfully pulled her back around her waist, tossing out further into the rain so he could run inside before her.

She collapsed in, ankles a little wobbly, grimacing at the water they had allowed into the room. Tim shut the windows and huffed.

“Perfect.”

Remembering they had been watched, the redness in Stephanie’s skin vanished, and she resumed staring at her feet, shuffling backwards behind Tim.

Hair dripping wet, and conscious that the pair might catch a cold, Tim tried to be genial when he asked if they were done. The man bared his teeth and he flipped through the images. He didn’t look totally satisfied.

“I don’t know… Can we go for some more artsy stuff? You guys got a ballroom, right? You two are such a good pair…I just want some more to play around with.”

Stephanie stumbled in her shoes, growing more tired by the moment. Tim began to shiver. One of the assistants not so subtly nudged the man, letting him now his time was up.

Bruce in one his blessed moments of good timing, had at some point begun watching through the open door to the drawing room, seemed to realise that Tim and Steph had also had enough.

“Thank you, Mr Hare, but I’m going to have to ask you to wrap up. Let my kids dry up.”

Being referred to one of Bruce’s own made Stephanie stare in open shock, whilst Tim looked gratefully at him, giving a small smile.

“Oh.” Said Mr Hare – Tim tried to not feel guilty at not knowing his name for the entire shoot – and finally he took the hint. “No worries. This was a good session! Listen, I’ll send them when their done to van Rijk. She’s a beast, will probably want them tomorrow if I know her.”

Bruce smiled politely and indicated for Alfred to begin showing them out.

Tim’s shivering had grown worse, and Stephanie noticing this, rushed to one of the sofas which had a cream throw resting over the back to cradle Tim within.

“Rub your chest if it’s gets unbearable.” She uttered, “That’s where all the important bits are.”

Tim smiled, teeth chattering. “Minus a spleen.”

“Huh?” She looked at him, confused.

“I… Oh. I never told you?”

She tilted her head, gears turning ever so slowly in her head. “That you don’t have a spleen? Tim! You’ll get sicker easier and worse!”

She managed to kick off her shoes and moved in closer, tugging the throw around them both. With the assistants out of the room, Tim grew somewhat warmer knowing she was being genuinely caring in this moment.

“How long ago?” She asked, shifting so she could keep them both somewhat warm.

“Um…” Tim looked at Bruce helping Alfred escort the team of the estate. “When I first went looking for _him_. Got stabbed.”

Her breath warmed his neck, and her fingers drifted down to where his scar was. She cooed when he twitched as if her touch hurt him, but to Tim it felt like a bolt of electricity had passed straight down his spine. He told himself it was because of the static from the rain and humidity.

Bruce watched the group begin to pack up, both ensuring they had left with all their equipment but also listening to their conversation, trying to not to smile.

“I think…” He interrupted, and the pair jolted at the reminder that someone else was in sight of them. “You both should shower up. Then a quick word with you both.”

Stephanie was the first to break away.

“Can I use Cass’ room?”

“We have a spare room if you want it. We have loads of spare rooms.” Tim hinted.

Steph didn’t take the hint. “Cass’ is fine.”

Bruce, however, did hear the hint, and in a rare moment of paternal ingenuity, decided to throw a little bomb into the mix.

“When is Stephanie moving into your apartment, Tim?”

Stephanie, who had no idea such an idea was on offer, gulped. Tim, also appeared a little thrown.

“I… I…”

“I’ve never even been to your apartment.”

“Well, there’s your chance.” Bruce said. “Now hurry up, before Alfred sees the state of the floors.”

Bruce’s edict was law, and reluctantly Crystal agreed for Stephanie to move out.

When it came to moving in with Tim, Stephanie was surprised how easy it was. She really didn’t own that much stuff to begin with, and Tim had a lot of spare space.

Tim’s apartment, based in Park Row no less, was large, and took up two floors. He seemed awful proud of it. Steph didn’t miss the piano sat in the corner but chose not to comment.

“One of your projects?”

Tim huffed, thinking she was diminishing his efforts with Park Row. He was lifting her suitcases up the stairs. “Well, the redevelopment is as good as I make it… And I live here… so you know, I stand by it being good.”

“Hmm.” She set one of four boxes on the couch. Hard and square, it didn’t lend itself to resting and relaxing. Tim had probably chosen it for the aesthetics more than anything, and was likely cursing himself that he had offered to sleep on it whilst Stephanie took his own bed. Glaring at the obnoxious chandelier which hung down from the open space of the ceiling of the first floor down to just above their heads on the first, she hummed to herself.

“These aren’t…I…”

Tim waited patiently at the top of the steps for her to finish.

“How did you make sure you haven't just gentrified the area?”

Tim put down her suitcases, practically skipping down the steps to get to her level, a little put off with her question. “You worried I kicked poor people out of Crime Alley?”

Stephanie blushed, and defended herself. “Not intentionally.”

“No. Not intentionally. Not unintentionally either.” He scoffed, but before he could turn way, Stephanie halted him.

“How then?”

Tim couldn’t hear the sincerity in her tone, instead he heard patronising accusations. His temper flared unexpectedly. She still could rile him up like no other. “You care?”

As could he to her, apparently. Her blush turned to a flush of red anger, and her defensiveness became aggressive.

“What kind of question is that? Do I care about your job? The unprivileged? Gotham in general?” She waved her hands. “Nevermind. Not if you’re gonna take everything like an attack.”

With a whirl that smacked Tim in the face with her long ponytail, he flinched back and watched her drag another box in. It was too heavy for one person, and she was going to hurt her back in her stubbornness.

“Steph, let me help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Steph –”

“You don’t always need to be so –”

“You know you can accept help from –”

The pair trailed off, both bent awkwardly over a box, glaring at each other. Stephanie was the first to break, groaning in a tantrum and stomping up the steps. She looked down over the railing to Tim looking up at her.

“You honestly don’t have a spare room?”

“No. The other room is an office and a bathroom. It’s just for a few more weeks… I made space in my closet for you.”

“Thanks. Real generous there, Timbo.”

Her sarcasm was biting, and Tim felt the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. She vanished from sight though, rolling her clothes through to his bedroom. Kicking the box at his feet, his eyes widened in shock at how heavy was, and he stumbled away.

“What she got in here… boulders?”

Dragging it into the hallway, Tim popped outside to see Crystal driving away, the two remaining boxes left at the foot of the steps to the door. They were lighter than the box of bricks, and once they were inside Tim shut the front door. Stephanie was still upstairs, so was likely unpacking her clothes.

Opening the heavy box in some grim determination to be vindicated in its contents, he was instead met with a box filled with stuffed soft toys.

She still held onto them? At the top of was a somewhat familiar teddy bear. She had held onto it and smacked him with it playfully on occasion. When he had visited her to tell her he was having to leave Gotham… when she was pregnant, when she didn’t know his name or anything about his parents or who was behind that mask… all she had known was this boy had – for some unknown reason – chosen to stay with her, to spend time with her. She had taken a lot of convincing over two years it was because Tim genuinely loved her, and it wasn’t out of some Bat driven duty to be kind to those weaker than you. By the time she believed it herself, she had seen Tim kissing someone (someone who she now knew he didn’t want to be kissed by) and everything had gone down the crapper. Seeing that stuffed bear affected him more than he expected.

Resting under it was the duck he had won her the other week. Its silly face peering out from under the other toys made him laugh despite his tense mood.

He picked up both toys and walked up the stairs. In his room, Steph was piling her shoes into a corner of the closet. Tim set the duck down on a table that rested at the foot of his bed.

“You kept this?” Tim asked, waving the teddy.

Stephanie gasped, clumsily pulling herself off the floor, and reached out to take it. Tim snatched it back.

“Give it.” She cried.

“Did you seriously bring everything? I could have helped you pack. Even the toys.”

She seemed increasingly upset, when Tim was only trying to tease. “I’m serious Tim, give it.”

He didn’t give way, so in her frustration, she shoved him. Hard. No damage was done, but the look of horror on her face at becoming physical like that with him made Tim’s stomach drop more than anything.

Her face turned white and she begged, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim really didn’t know what to do with her constant mood swings, so awkwardly returned her bear to her. She nearly ripped it out of his hands and cradled it reverently.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I just thought it was sweet, that you held onto this stuff.”

In her hands, Stephanie looked down at the bear. When she spoke, it was near a whisper.

“My dad bought it for me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. When he was… when he was trying to be better.” Her look grew angry then. “I don’t know why I keep it.”

Without thinking, she plopped on her bed, staring at nothing. Tim realised he needed to intervene, and quick. He sat next to her and took one of her hands in both of his.

“We need to talk, I think.”

Dropping the bear, her other hand joined the three. Tim tried not to shiver at the warmth. “Me too.”

“Let’s get the rest of your stuff in, yeah? Is it all for upstairs?”

“I have some photo albums. And a couple of things for the kitchen. Figured you didn’t cook much.”

“Not really.”

She pulled their pile of hands into her lap, her look growing softer by the moment.

“Then I’ll cook tonight? First meal in a new place. Be a good wifey and all that.”

Tim tried not to imagine Stephanie with rollers in her hair, red lips and a frilly apron holding an apple pie. He failed. “Can’t comment on the contents of my fridge.”

“That’s okay.” She stood up, wandering down to the yellow duck. She pinched its orange beak. “Tim?”

“Mm?”

“I am genuinely interested in your work. I’m not being accusatory about that.”

“Thank you, Steph.”

She smiled, but it was sad.

With one box filled with stuffed toys, it truly didn’t take long for Tim to help her move the rest of her stuff into his room. Photos proceeded to take up free surface space, and Tim’s bathroom quickly became filled with so many items for the bath that his mind drifted to the idea of Stephanie. In his tub. In his apartment. He burned red for the rest of the afternoon, his brain not allowing him to let go of her soaking in bubbles.

There was one that smelled like cola candy that he liked, but it was at that point he decided he was being creepy, and wandered back downstairs, to find his fiancée’s head rammed in the fridge.

“Alright there?”

“Garlic…red onion… half a pepper…” Her muffled voice was amused. “Butter… cheese… milk.” She shut the door, hands full of everything except the milk. “Pretty standard student fridge contents huh?”

“I’m not a student.”

“Nah, but you have twenty-year-old brain anyway. We’re all messes.” She looked at the ingredients in her arms. “I can do something with this. You good a stirring?”

“I have movement in my wrists.”

She smiled. “Then grab me a knife, cutting board, pot and frying pan?” When he did, she jerked her head over to the sink. “Fill the pot three quarters up and throw a chunk of salt in. When it boils – two mugs of pasta and stir.”

It was a simple quick dish, but she gave Tim enough instructions to make him feel like he somewhat contributed to the food that she made. Sitting with her at the counter, watching her pile cheese higher and higher into her bowl, made him feel content in a manner he didn’t feel often in his home.

When they were finished, Tim stared into his empty bowl gathering the courage to say,

“We should talk.”

Stephanie beat him to it. Tim picked up the dishes, hand shaking a little.

“I’ll wash up.”

She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. If he wanted, he could pull away without being violent, but he held still. Steph looked at him, trying to make him understand.

“It can wait a little bit.”

She was right, but Tim couldn’t shake his nerves. He set the bowls down, then sat back on the stool.

Stephanie’s hand shifted, and then suddenly they were interlocking fingers.

“Tim…” She began, and she was unable to look at him as much as he for her. “How much of this is real for you?”

Tim had told Dick he had wanted her to start the conversation, for her to lead the way, but now when it was happening, Tim moved from nervous to frightened.

“What do you mean?”

The look Steph gave Tim from the corner of her eye was indescribable, but the closest Tim got to giving it a name was pity.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Do you?”

Deflecting like a wimp. Avoiding conflict. Tim tried to convince himself it was because Stephanie had to be the one to tell him. The moment she was decisive, so would he.

Instead she sighed like she didn’t know what to say. They were still holding hands. Tim began to breathe shallowly.

“Please, Steph. It’s fine if you don’t.”

There was his admission. She knew, she’d always known. But somehow, she had found the talent of laying her cards close to her chest, and he hated it.

“It’s not that.”

Not a denial. Not really an admission either.

“What is it?”

“It’s everyone else. Like, I’ve been getting all these messages all the time from people I haven’t spoken to in ages but then Kara keeps messaging me asking what’s going on. Why I didn’t tell her? Why are her and Conner not invited? But I can’t… I can’t lie to our loved ones about you.”

“Because you…don’t love me. And you don’t want to lie to the people _we_ love that you do.”

He felt hollowed out. He felt like he was hurting her. But she had agreed to this. She didn’t have to. He had given her a way out. So what? She was being a martyr?

“No…No Tim.”

And suddenly Tim could breathe again.

“But don’t you get it? Even if I wanted… we are lying to _everyone_. How can anything good come from a lie? Especially for us. Where has us lying with each other ever done us any good?”

Oh. She thought they were repeating old bad patterns. 

“I’m not lying to you.” He said, trying to reassure her. Not once since this whole thing had begun.

“And that’s all that matters?”

“It should. We’re the ones in this…relationship…so that’s all that counts.”

She sighed patiently, like she was explaining something to a child. “Tim, we don’t live in a bubble.”

Tim ignored it, and shamelessly began to beg. His patience had run out. It felt like he was pulling wisdom teeth, that’s how closed off she was being.

“Stephanie. Steph, please. You can’t say it’s a lie when I’ve done nothing but be honest with you. You have to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“You said you loved me at dinner.”

“I did.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

Tim did not feel any lighter with the admission, nor did Steph look happy to say it.

“When this is over, do you want to be with me? For real? Like I do for you?”

Finally, _finally,_ they looked each other in the eye.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was wet, quiet, and strained, like she was on the urge of crying. She didn’t even sound sure of her uncertainty. Maybe Tim was completely delusional, but he sensed that for all her talks of wanting the truth, she didn’t know what to do with it when it was staring her right in the face.

She was still frightened, and Tim knew it was from every piece of negative and positive attention being flung there way. Like Tim, Stephanie just wanted to be left alone. Unlike Tim, she couldn’t cope with the attention. And he didn’t know how to help her.

She then got up from the table, picking up their bowls to do the washing up. She had gotten what she wanted from the conversation. Tim was being earnest, like he always was. Tim still loved her, like he always had. Tim wanted a real relationship with her, like he had always wanted.

And she had only given him mixed signals in return. Self-loathing bubbled in her gut, which only served to fuel her seemingly growing self-esteem issues. Her anger spiked.

And she’d tried so hard to get over her adolescent insecurities too…

Patrol was waiting, after which Stephanie would spend the night with Cass at the manor, and Tim would return to his apartment, staring at the empty space in his large bed.

Neither slept that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen... listen... listen... I promise there's a happy ending... but also I am going to make Steph suffer. The next three chapters...mmm, c'est l'angoisse. Why?
> 
> Because I can.
> 
> References wise, Steph's dresses coming from the 2014 Hamda Al Fahim Spring Summer Collection, Zuhair Murad's Couture Spring Summer 2020 and Ready to Wear pre fall 2020, and finally I can't remember where I got the purple dress from... I'll do a tumblr post for all the jewellery and clothes that Steph gets shoved into once the story is complete, including the inspirations for the wedding dress when we get to that bit. 
> 
> In the meantime, look after yourselves everyone. Be kind. I'll see you in a week or two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dress design is decided, and a venue is set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! This sounds real soppy but honestly the views and kudos are unbelievably ace and I'm just !!!! you guys really like this trope huh? Hope you guys continue to enjoy. As I said, Steph's not gonna have a great time of it for the next wee while, whilst Tim isn't too far behind, so let's bathe in the melodrama yeah?

In the first hour on conversation with Rebecca Andrews, her phone had rung no less than three times.

“It’s… he’s just very worried about me at the moment.” She uttered, pulling out more inspiration boards for Stephanie (and Cassandra) to muse over. Why Steph had brought Cass she wasn’t entirely sure. It was not an insult to say that the girl’s fashion sense was lacking, nor did she really know what looked good on Stephanie. But, to the public, and Stephanie supposed in reality too, she was the Maid of Honour, and that did come with certain obligations.

Of course, Cass was also there to pick up any inconsistencies in the woman’s actions or thinking or…anything really, that would set off alarm bells.

As for the dress itself, a silhouette decision had been somewhat easy.

“Please no trumpet or slinky numbers. It has to be a little conservative.” Stephanie wrung her hands. “I’ve got a lot of scarring on my back and chest… rather not show those off. And we’re thinking of the Cathedral for the venue, after this that’s where Tim and I are heading, so I don’t want…”

“Oh no, no, no. I know the Dean _and_ the Bishop. Stuffy old men if there ever were a pair.”

Rebecca had smiled in a friendly manner then, hand over her mouth thinking, pulling Stephanie to the centre of her old workshop. It was neat and fancy, with one wall entirely constituting windows that looked out onto the other red brick tenements of this area of Gotham. Three months ago, Rebecca may have prided herself on being a hidden gem, now it seemed she was hidden for a reason.

“Do you just want shoulders covered, or full sleeves?”

Cassandra piped up from where she was sat, behind one of the old green sewing machines within the studio. She was resting an elbow on the table, watching amusedly.

“I want her, and I know Tim would love it, to look like Cinderella.”

“How do you know that?” Stephanie’s tone was a bit pointed, still raw from last night. Cassandra only smiled, not giving anything away, and shrugged.

Rebecca meanwhile nodded, brain sparking off with ideas.

“Yes… I can do that. You practically are this city’s Cinderella case, aren’t you?”

“I mean… I guess so?”

_Guess so. The parallels practically draw themselves, Steph._ She berated herself as measurements were taken. She was wearing workout leggings and a tank top, fully intending to run to college once the ordeal was over. Not sweeping cinders from a fireplace, but certainly not Gotham’s highest social circle frequenter.

“If I may ask…” Rebecca began tentatively, measuring Stephanie’s under-bust and legs. “Why me? You must have… heard…”

The phone rang again, and Rebecca only sighed, excusing herself.

Left alone in the studio, Stephanie frowned. “I don’t want a Cinderella dress, Cass.”

“What do you want?”

Steph jolted. “What?”

“You don’t want sexy, you don’t want princess, so…”

“I’d rather have nothing.” Steph grumbled to herself. Cassandra caught it and gave her a dangerous look. Steph sighed heavily and looked out the window. “What _Bruce_ wants he gets. What everyone else feels is irrelevant.”

“Steph.” Cass’s tone was sharp, and Stephanie knew somewhere inside herself that she was being a brat, but she was still upset from yesterday at Tim. At herself. She didn’t know why she was so frightened. She just knew in her churning gut that she wouldn’t be enough to hold him to her. She never had been. And he was too lovesick to realise it. And she was too weak to tell him no.

She wanted the job over fast, but they still had weeks to go. Her mood had turned foul, and she was increasingly biting at everyone. Tim, her mother, Cassandra, her classmates… She was slipping. But she was miserable, and for the first time in a long while, couldn’t find a way to cope. She felt like she was regressing.

Rebecca trundled in with bundles of fabric.

“Sorry about that!” She huffed. Underneath the piles of fabric she held a small portfolio. Thin taffeta, structured satin and fine lace tumbled onto a table. She held out the portfolio for Stephanie to take and look through. “So, here’s some rough designs I’ve done in the past, we can use one as a base and go from there. First off, I want to know what your main fabric is to be. Not all three, only for the detailing.”

Stephanie’s eyes were drawn to the lace, but then Cass stepped in. “I like taffeta. You’ll look like a princess.”

“I suppose.” Dragging her eyes away, she looked at the see-through taffeta, then down at one of the designs she had opened on. Saying nothing, she stared a little longer.

Rebecca smiled patiently. “It’s a lot huh?”

“I just… I didn’t think my wedding was going to be this big.” Telling the truth, Stephanie told herself it was to make Rebecca more at ease. “We have to scale up.”

“Hmm.” Stephanie watched Cassandra watch Rebecca, who was musing over what Stephanie had said. “Well, let’s go for this. What are your flowers?”

“…Carnations.”

“Car—oh gosh. Okay, and your shoes?”

“I haven’t…I thought you should buy the dress first.”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. What about jewellery? Any ideas for that?”

“I…”

“Dad wants her in pearls.” Cassandra butt in again. Stephanie bit her tongue. “Family jewels and all that.”

“Ah, pearls. The something borrowed part of the rhyme? And your hair?”

“I want it down.” For that she was certain. “Or mostly down.”

“So… a high neck? But your hair down?”

Her sceptical tone made Stephanie’s hackles rise. Rebecca circled around Stephanie, face pinched. Stephanie’s heartrate picked up from the critique and staring.

“If we do a bateau neckline we can go a little lower with the back. And your hair can’t be down, not with a high neck and full skirt. You’ll look matronly.”

“But I –”

“I’ll give you a veil, don’t worry, no-one will get a clear view of any scarring. You’ve got a swan’s neck. Let’s show it off, hmm? We’ll go for taffeta and lace. Soft. But grand. No ruffles, no sparkles.”

Rebecca took the portfolio from Stephanie’s hands and turned to a memorised page. “This. Longer train, higher neck. You got your long sleeves, got the full cathedral train – fittingly – you got grand princess… but none of the tackiness. Sound good?”

Taken aback by the competence the woman displayed, Stephanie nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted, not entirely, but it would suit the occasion. If it ever got to that stage. Perhaps Bruce would solve it after this first meeting.

“When do you want me back?” Stephanie asked.

“Four days.”

She had a seminar in the afternoon, but, “I can do the morning.”

“Nine o’clock sharp please. We’ve got a lot to do in not a lot of time.” Rebecca turned to see Cass watching her. She didn’t seem off put by it. “How many bridesmaids have you chosen?”

“Just Cass. And Tim just has Dick for his best man.”

Rebecca smiled absent-mindedly, allowing Stephanie off the pedestal. “So not large in that regard. That’s fine. What will _you_ be wearing?”

“Something gold.” That part of the wedding, Cass was pleased with.

“White and gold colour scheme.” Stephanie explained, grabbing her little backpack.

“Ah. Just the two colours? No in-between? No cream or ivory or custard?”

Stephanie managed to laugh. “No, no. White and gold. That’s all.”

Rebecca nodded. “The dress will have to be pure white then. No ivory for you Miss Brown.”

“Mrs Wayne.” Cass nudged Steph teasingly, who had turned white, close to her limit and wanting nothing more for the appointment to be done.

“Drake.” She coughed, trying to hide her discomfort. “Drake-Wayne.”

Neither girl missed Ms Andrew’s eyes sparking off. She smiled, but it seemed a little hollow.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Steph nodded, Cassandra gently pulling them towards the exit.

“Thursday nine in the morning. Thank you, Ms Andrews!”

“Bye Stephanie.” She seemed to remember something and called out to the girls. “You won’t regret choosing me! Thank you for the chance to prove I’m bankable!”

Right on time, her phone began to ring.

Shutting the door to let them out onto the concrete stairwell, both girls knelt right down, and tried to listen to the conversation. Nothing could be heard through the solid stone walls and heavy wooden door.

Huffing, Steph caught the time after she pulled out her second phone. “I got class and then Tim and I are going to speak to the Bishop. Gotta bribe our way in there.” Glancing sideways, she looked at Cass. “What are you doing now?”

Cass did not answer. Instead, she forced Stephanie to a place she did not want to go.

“You don’t like what she’s making for you.”

“…No.”

“Then why –”

Stephanie’s temper flared once more, and she snapped at Cassandra.

“I don’t know what I want, okay? I just don’t. That allowed? Fucking…” She bit at Cass, who only glared at her. Cassandra had never been one to back off when Stephanie was in a foul mood. “I trust this designer to make me a nice dress and I’ll wear it with the biggest goddamn smile on my face. Tim can have his little fantasy and leave me empty at the end of it.”

The insult to her brother mortified Cassandra. For as much as she loved Stephanie, she also loved Tim. Tim who had, as far as Cassandra could tell, done nothing but be open with the girl a few steps down from her. She chided, “Stephanie!”

“Oh God I am not in the mood for a –”

Steph was shoved down several stairs, Cassandra having had enough of her self-pity. She gasped, clinging tightly to the wall in an attempt to catch her breath from the sudden jolt.

“Grow up.” Cassandra spat out. “Remember why you are doing it.”

Stephanie felt like she had been punched and was unable to catch her breath. Moving to hold onto the handrail, she turned back up to Cassandra, only to find her Maid of Honour was looking on with frustration. A frustration very close to anger directed straight at Stephanie.

There was something in the look Stephanie gave Cassandra in response, one akin to betrayal, that made Cass snort. She was not going to indulge Stephanie any further and left, whirring past her with no goodbye.

The bottom door slammed shut, definitively letting Steph know that she wasn’t welcome to spend the night with Cassandra.

Feeling very close to tears, Stephanie rubbed at her eyes in the empty stairwell, sniffed, then began to run, trying to leave her mood behind her.

She walked to the cathedral after class, feeling close to punching the next person who grabbed her hand without her permission, or asked her for news about the wedding, or who questioned her with such a hungry look in their eye, that it made her feel oddly frightened and unsafe.

Gotham had too many cathedrals for too many denominations, but they had ended up at this one because it was where Bruce’s parents were married and it was where their funeral service was held. They were trying to get as much sympathy from the public as they could.

It was built from an oily black stone that looked like it was almost sweating, it looked so slick, and inside it was the very definition of _Gothic._ And yet somehow it managed to be filled with light and colour. It was damaged or bits of it were blown up it seemed every other week, and yet it had endured.

Stephanie found Tim inside, sat at the front of one of the aisles. The way the light was falling through the stained-glass windows cast colourful patches across the row.

His hair looked very black and thick.

Stephanie stared at him from across the aisle as he failed to notice her. Tim didn’t look deep in thought or prayer, he just looked sick and lost in his mind, a thousand miles away and spiralling down in his head. He was sallow, almost green he seemed so unwell, and she could offer no comfort. He wasn’t sleeping. Usually he would nap as and when, in weird places and at weird times, but it was enough to keep him going. It seemed now like his own brain was keeping him awake as some part of a sick experiment to watch how the human body fails after denied sleep for so long.

A memory of him lying on her stomach when they were young, both snoozing on her bed, offered itself as a potential solution.

She found herself not really wanting to however and quashed the thought. Where did Tim get off looking like such an abandoned puppy? She was the one who had to have asked to defer her graduation until winter due to time constraints and work overload, she was the one being forced into a role she didn’t want…

And he had the nerve to look like she had broken his heart. Tim, who had done that to her countless times over countless years, thought he was hard done by. She had no patience for it.

But then he noticed her approaching and his eyes flittered to hers. His eyes sparked with life, just for a moment, but then the blue grew dull once more, and the fog resumed.

Something inside her jerked painfully and before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Stephanie had rushed over, stood in front of him, and pulled him forward until he was being cradled. Almost aggressively, her fingers ran through his hair, and she felt him tremble.

They remained silent for a long while, Stephanie’s mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour. She could feel Tim slipping back into his lost thoughts once more. There were not many others present inside, so it was only the quiet sound of muffled footsteps and mutterings, a reassuring humdrum in the background, which kept her focus on him.

“It’s not fair.” She whispered, begging him to understand. “But I... I don’t trust…anyone with us.”

Tim made a mumble which suspiciously sounded like an apology to her. His hands crept up, to hold her elbows, and Stephanie rested her cheek on his head. She found herself scratching behind his ear.

He pushed her away, very gently, only so he could look up at her.

“I’m going to prove it to you. That everyone else doesn’t matter.”

A settled determinism had appeared then on his face and his posture, but Stephanie sighed, disregarding his mood. “I think you’re naïve.”

The bitterness crept back in, despite her regrets of her earlier spiteful thoughts and words, but this time it wasn’t directed at Tim. It was a general despondency and distrustfulness that even Tim, for all his earnestness, couldn’t save her from.

“Let me try.”

“Tim...”

Whatever Tim was going to say in response, she didn’t get to hear, because his open look slammed shut, and he peaked behind her left arm. Stephanie turned to see two elderly men approaching. One in a black suit, one in a robe.

“Mr Drake? Miss Brown?” Asked the man in the suit.

Tim’s game face on, he smiled affably. It seemed to placate the two men, who smiled politely and held their hands out to shake, but as Stephanie watched, she realised what their conversation the other day truly meant.

Tim had sometimes asked her who she truly loved, the suit or him, and she hadn’t understood why he had gotten so upset at her knowing his real name at first. Robin was Tim and Tim was Robin.

But then… that was less and less true. And some of that was her fault.

Tim wanted to prove to her the rest of the world didn’t matter, and yet he was retreating so far inward that soon even his friends and family wouldn’t know him.

Stephanie snaked an arm around Tim’s bicep as he shook hands with the two men, she following suit a moment later.

The Dean looked sterner than the Bishop, and insisted they walk around the cathedral grounds. The Bishop did all the talking after that point as they walked towards the cloisters.

“We understand that desire to marry where one’s family had in the past, and I am sure Mr Wayne would be over the moon…”

“But…” Tim asked, slowly stopping in a patch of light down the long corridor.

“But, well, we usually ask that anyone wanting to get married here attends church every Sunday for at least six months, and you two want to be wed in…four weeks? I’m sorry Mr Drake, but we can’t make an exception to you and Miss Brown.”

“But—” Tim tried to explain, but the Dean cut them off.

“It’s exploitative. We aren’t a pretty venue for a socialite’s wedding. I believe you have your own property for that kind of thing.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, as the pair knew he was right. These guys took their roles seriously, and they knew what Tim and Stephanie’s request looked like.

“Then why didn’t you say over the phone? Why did you invite us here? To chide us for even asking?” Stephanie managed to push back. She tried to measure her tone back down. “We love the cathedral because it is beautiful. We chose it because of its importance to our family. Bruce especially.”

“We aren’t exploiting anyone… least of all you. We know it’s on very short notice. If we had another choice we _would_ be delaying a bit but…”

Tim trailed off, as if the pair were holding off on some dark grief-stricken secret that no-one, not even the Bishop, could know. The two older men exchanged glances, and Stephanie looked at her feet. Talking of exploitation…

“No.” Concluded the Bishop.

“But we –”

“I am sorry, the pair of you.” The Dean did not sound sorry. “But that’s our answer.”

The Bishop at least, looked slightly sorry at Tim and Stephanie’s genuinely sad expressions.

Stephanie, internally, was cursing up a storm. It would look laughable that they had been rejected from here as a venue. They would look entitled, they would look out of touch that they thought they could buy their way in, they would look foolish. She squeezed Tim’s arm repeatedly, practically massaging it. She wasn’t sure if she was comforting him, or doing it to reassure herself.

“I’ll walk you both out.” Said the Bishop, noting that neither were making any movement to leave.

Tim tried very hard not to glare, and they turned, walking with the Bishop. He seemed sheepish, embarrassed as much at himself as for Tim and Stephanie, who were both more than a little white faced, not sure what to say.

“If…if anything happens… if you do get the chance to stretch it out a little, consider coming back.”

Out on the front steps, Tim finally turned to look at the Bishop.

“Why did you agree to meet us? Why not tell Mrs van Rijk that the dates didn’t work, thank you very much but no?”

Stephanie meanwhile was watching people walk by below and across the street. It was looking like it was going to start raining again soon. Mrs van Rijk was determined to have the reception in the manor gardens. Having looked at the scheduled forecast for the next fortnight, Stephanie was not entirely optimistic for next month, even as it was approaching mid-May.

The Bishop had no good answer to give.

“The Dean and I agreed that it was better to tell you the truth in person.”

“So you have a slot that we could fill? But you won’t let us.” Tim was getting pushy now, whereas Stephanie was ready to just drop it. She was having a foul day, best to call it a loss and go home.

Except home was supposed to be at Tim’s. Her bed didn’t even have any sheets on it now, and she was so tired all she wanted to do was crash, and hope her mood improved in the morning.

“Well, yes, however, as the Dean said, there’s no sincere reason for either of you to choose here outside of Mr Wayne’s parents had services here. Sentimental reasons aren’t enough for the church.”

“According to the Dean? You don’t think the cathedral will benefit from something as high profile as this? Or is that too exploitative and cynical?”

Stephanie was taken aback by how aggressive Tim was being. She turned back around and laid a hand on his back, though he did not relax.

“It’s alright.” She said, her tone decidedly not alright. “We’ll find somewhere else. There’s still time.”

“No.” At Tim’s denial, Steph’s hand clenched in his shirt. “Why would you both even jump to the conclusion that Steph and I were using you?”

There was something unspoken in Tim’s question that both Stephanie and the Bishop heard. Stephanie’s grumpiness shifted immediately to upset, and she didn’t miss the way the Bishop’s eyes deliberately trailed up and down from her legs to her face. She stumbled back down a step or two as if she had been punched.

Tim also took a step back, but then his face flushed red, frustration changing to anger.

“You know what—”

Blood splattered over Stephanie, and the sound of a shot rang out. She cried out in shock, quickly realising the Bishop had collapsed on the steps. People on the street screamed and shouted, and Tim looked up to the right.

“He’s been shot.” Stephanie uselessly said. Immediately she was on the floor with him, and she looked up to see Tim tightly bound, like a spring. Someone had shot at them, missing only because Tim and Stephanie had moved down a step each at the wrong moment. Stephanie saw Tim’s line of sight looking to a neighbouring tenement.

“Go,” She urged. “I’ll get him inside. Call for help.”

She could feel dozens of eyes on her, but it felt more akin to her time as Batgirl then as Stephanie. She found the wound, pulsing blood down her fingertips in the Bishop’s left shoulder. It was bright scarlet, and there was a lot, pouring down the steps. Other members of the public, seemingly realising that it was just one gun shot, began to stop and stare, unsure what to do.

Tim shouted directly at one lady to call an ambulance, causing the bystander effect to fall away, then he ran straight for the building, training kicking in. Stephanie hoped he would reach the vantage point before the shooter fled.

She, meanwhile, managed to get Bishop Sherborne just inside the front door, in the patch of coloured light from the rose window. She stared at the trail of blood she had made. The Bishop was resting on her thighs, and she was pressing hard on the wound, trying to stifle the blood flow. The man’s face was turning grey, and his breathing was shallow, so Stephanie knew the ambulance would not arrive in time.

“I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I don’t… God, I’m sorry.”

He spluttered blood, lungs filling up, and managed to reach upwards, holding onto her forearm.

She held on tight, and people began to gather. She stared at her fingers, seeing them becoming as red as the robe the dying Bishop wore.

She could feel the man slipping from her.

Tim nearly fell back into the cathedral, just in time for the Dean to arrive to the scene as well. He stumbled a bit, through the small crowd of people migrating towards the dying man on the floor. The Dean yelled at them to maintain their distance, then he did not speak again.

“I couldn’t find them.” Tim said, tears in his eyes as he begged the Bishop and the Dean to understand. The Dean looked blankly on at his dying colleague. Having received no response, Tim knelt, and held the Bishop’s hand.

The blood soon stopped flowing, and the chest stopped rising. Stephanie let out a cry she wasn’t aware she was holding onto, and the suddenness of what had happened caught up with her. She began to sob. Deep, sore gulping cries that hurt her lungs and ripped their way out of her throat.

This man had not been the target. Bruce had made them promise. No more deaths, he’d said.

She looked up at the Dean, begging an apology. Distantly she understood she was hyperventilating, which was not like her. She saw Tim’s hands shaking as he gently tugged the Bishop off her lap, lying him flat on the floor. She looked down, seeing how she her hands were dripping with blood and her clothes were damp and dark. Uncomfortable memories rose up, and she began to desperately gulp down air, unable to see straight. A skeletal smile and a dirty floor throbbed in her head.

She looked again in the direction to the Dean, searching for him in her line of sight wildly. “I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.”

Tim was around her then, picking her up and setting her aside. The ambulance had arrived, for what it was worth, and would need to speak to them soon enough. He sat them in a dark and damp corner, behind a large pillar and slightly off to the side. Eyes followed them, but they were far enough away to be alone, though still in sight if they were suddenly needed once more. Stephanie buried her face in her hands, the stench of drying blood smearing on her face making her nauseous.

“Steph. Stephie.”

She cried hearing his pet name.

“Stephie you need to breathe.”

“I am.”

“Slower. Hands on my chest. Come on.”

She did as she was told, and Tim whimpered at the blood she had smeared everywhere. “Breathe with me, okay?”

She shook her head, wet and fat tears slipping freely down onto her shirt.

“Sweetheart, you can do it, watch your hands. Breathe up and down.”

Seeing her hands rise and fall slowly with Tim’s chest, she slowly began to match it. She was still crying, but it became manageable.

“What happened?” He whispered. “You’ve seen this before.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No.”

She nodded, eyes squeezing shut. She rumpled Tim’s shirt. “They said no because of me. He was shot because I was the target and they missed.”

“And me. It’s my fault too?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not yours.”

Looking and feeling an utter state, she leaned forward, letting Tim catch her and pull her close. Steph curled up into a ball, and his legs bent upwards to allow her to perch herself in a manner that meant she was compressed between his chest and thighs. Tim rested his chin on her head, and watched the Dean say goodbye to his co-worker once the ambulance had taken away the body.

The police had arrived then, and to Tim’s surprise, Commissioner Gordon was amongst them. Though on further musing it made sense after what looked like the assassination of a major public figure.

He recognized Tim, and after a moment clicked that the blonde curled up ball in Tim’s arms was the girl Babs had taken to helping out recently.

He walked over, bending his knees to check on them both.

“You doing alright kiddos? No injuries?”

“No.” Tim shook his head. “But I think whoever was shooting aimed for us. We moved down a step just before they fired.”

Gordon leaned back on his heels. “Why would someone be aiming for you?”

Stephanie realised Tim had put his foot in it. Neither knew how much information Batman had shared with the Commissioner. And of course, Tim and Stephanie knew nothing of wedding murders and unlucky wedding dress designers.

“...I don’t know. I just... feel it.”

It was weak, but Gordon pretended to buy it.

“You will both have to give witness statements...”

Stephanie nodded, emerging from the cocoon that was Tim’s embrace. Gordon’s shoulders heaved up and down at the sight of her.

“You didn’t need to sit with him. The Dean told me what you did.”

“...Couldn’t leave him alone out front.”

“No.” Gordon sighed, rubbing his hands on his trousers. “Once we’ve got your statements, go home and rest up. Why were you two here anyway?”

Tim looked up, to see the Dean staring at them. He still appeared very much in shock, blank and uninvolved with what had just occurred. Tim’s gaze seemed to animate him, and slowly, like the old man he was, he trotted over.

“They were here…” said the Dean, ringing his hands, “to book their wedding venue.”

Tim gave a strangled noise. He thought the man was here to mock them, to point the finger. His colleague was dead because of their entitlement. Never mind that they could have been told no over email or the phone, never mind that Tim and Stephanie weren’t supposed to be targets until the wedding day… they couldn’t have known. Tim tried to convince himself, otherwise his words to Stephanie of the same fact would ring hollow.

This wasn’t their fault.

Gordon’s nose twitched. “Oh, yes, Babs mentioned that the other day. Congrats you two.”

Sat on the floor, covered in a dead man’s blood, Stephanie could only assume Gordon hadn’t meant his statement to be as ill-timed as it was.

The Dean’s eyes tightened, and he got down to be eye level with the couple still sat on the cold floor.

“I think, I may be acting out of turn here, but please, the 25th of May at two o’clock is a fine time for the wedding.”

Stephanie gave a broken whimper, turning back to rest on Tim’s chest. “No.” She whispered.

Tim ground his teeth together and squeezed her shoulder. Looking at the Dean, he just nodded. They would sort it out later.

Eventually they moved to the pews, which is where Bruce found them an hour later. They gave their statements and were clear to go, but the pair remained, not quite ready to leave. Bruce had a packet of wet wipes in his hands.

Tim felt Stephanie tense next to him and Tim’s own breathing slowed. He couldn’t endure a lecture from Bruce. He was going to bite back the minute Bruce’s tone got out of hand.

To Tim’s surprise, Bruce just sighed, and sat next to Stephanie. Pulling out a tissue, very carefully, he began to wipe the blood off her hands. Tim watched as Stephanie slowly turned towards Bruce, still a little tearful. She was welcoming the affection from him in a way Tim had never seen from either Bruce or Stephanie before. A strange ripple of jealousy migrated through his gut.

Stephanie sniffed a little, attempts to talk choking her throat.

“You said no more deaths.”

“I did…” Bruce sighed, though it did not sound like he was angry. Disappointment was there, because of course it was, but it was somewhat tempered knowing that the pair were undoubtedly crucifying themselves regardless of his opinion. “But I said you were to leave the investigation to me. I missed this. And now a man is dead. And it could have been you.”

He handed the tissues to Stephanie so she could clean her face. She smiled weakly and began to scrub at her cheeks, revealing raw red skin under her makeup.

Tim pinched one for his own hands. “Any news on that front? What did you find from the vantage sight?” He asked, trying not to sound too aggressive.

“…Whoever it is. They aren’t leaving anything behind. But I have a few leads. The designer and her boyfriend, the main pair…”

“She and our wedding planner were the only ones who knew we were coming here today.” Stephanie whispered.

Bruce nodded. “And the Bishop and the Dean…” He said, turning to see that the Dean was nowhere in sight. “But I don’t think it’s the Dean.”

“Somehow I doubt Mrs Van Rijk is responsible either.” Tim muttered.

“Did Cassandra say anything? About this morning?” Stephanie interjected.

Bruce gave a look which suggested Cassandra had said a lot of things.

“I’m needing a plug on her phone. She doesn’t have any private social media, nor email. That partner of hers… There’s been multiple incidents of the police called out to her residence in the past for domestic disputes.”

“Same boyfriend who won’t stop calling her?” Tim raised his eyebrow as he asked. It seemed obvious to him who was behind it. Abusive boyfriend couldn’t let his girlfriend be independent of him. Why was Bruce messing around?

“Needs confirming.”

“But –”

“You’re better than this Tim. Circumstantial evidence is not enough to build any case on.”

The insult threw Tim down two or three pegs. He loathed to be spoken to like that. He was better than _what?_ Himself? Was it just another dig at how Bruce thought Tim was slipping?

Bruce sighed once more. “On a grimmer note. This whole event… it seems you did the right thing, trying to help Bishop Sherborne. Comments online have been very sympathetic and praising.”

“We didn’t even do anything.” Stephanie pled. Her face was turning a milky shade of green.

“Regular civilians comforting a dying man in his last moments is not something to be sniffed at, nor is running into the building to try and find the shooter.” He looked at them both individually, trying to make them understand. “And seeing through having the wedding _here_ of all places.” Bruce paused, looking around. Tim believed this place held nothing but bad memories for him. How it must have seemed like Tim and Stephanie were spitting on his parent’s graves. “Shows you’re not frightened. People like that.”

“It feels manipulative… to use his death for our benefit…”

Tim just sighed. “Maybe. But it’s all to catch this murderer.”

Stephanie turned back to look at Tim. “ _All_ of it? Really?”

Tim struggled to reply, and Bruce took that as his signal to go. “Will you go back to Park Row? Or with me to the manor?”

Tim kept his and Stephanie’s eyes locked when he muttered. “We’ll go to mine.”

“Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow. No night job tonight. Try to sleep.”

With Bruce gone, Tim picked up a clean wet wipe, and gently began to stroke places Stephanie had missed on her own face. One place on her neck, he knew from experience used to make her sigh and close her eyes when he used to kiss or stroke it, and sure enough, she shut her eyes and began to relax bit by bit as he cleaned her up.

When they did return to Tim’s apartment, Tim took an almighty gamble.

“I know we said I would sleep on the sofa whilst you were here but… Steph, you okay to be alone tonight?”

She screwed her eyes shut, standing at the entrance to Tim’s closet. She had on her pyjamas and was squeezing her teddy like it was a stress ball.

“When was the last time you slept? All the way through the night?” She asked, refusing to answer his question.

“A while.”

She was trying to make the situation about him, deflecting and pretending her feelings didn’t count for as much as his. He grumbled to himself, knowing it was not a productive way of coping.

Stephanie smiled at him, trying to be cheeky, but it fell flat. “Then… you can stay. It’s a big bed anyway. If you have a nightmare…”

“If _you_ have a nightmare…”

“We’ve never slept in the same bed before.” She muttered as she clambered in. Fluffing up her pillow, she rested down, laying a little bit like a corpse in a coffin. Tim very quickly joined in on his own side.

“We have.” He disputed.

“Not like this. Under the covers.”

Tim wiggled his eyebrows, and Stephanie snorted. Her laugh very quickly became sombre. Tim pressed his cheek down on the pillows. Already under the covers it was becoming warm with her lying next to him.

“Thank you, Tim. For today.”

“It wasn’t our fault.”

“No. But I freaked out.”

“You’re under stress.”

“And you’re not?”

“Everyone reacts differently to trauma and –”

“Sweetheart…” She kissed his cheek, and Tim fell silent. The gaze she received could only be described as adoring, and she hoped her own expression was equally smitten. “All these excuses you give me…”

She shifted, moving closer and closer until they were laying inches apart, practically sharing their breath. Her hand crept up, cradling his cheek. Gulping a little, Tim moved as she bid him. She shifted the pillows, propping herself up enough that her torso was above the sheets, but still shallow enough that she could sleep. She cradled Tim, pulling him so his head rested on her stomach. Both hands curled around his head, one stroking his hair, the other his exposed cheek

“I’ll sleep when you sleep, okay?”

The only sound in the room that Tim could make out was her muffled pulse and breathing. He was warm. He had been given something he had been craving since it had been taken from him years ago, only to not realise until recently how much he missed it. He inhaled deeply, distantly smelling the candy scented soap she used, and closed his eyes.

In his own bed, surrounded by Stephanie, and exhausted beyond measure, it did not take long for Tim to fall asleep, nor did it take Stephanie long to follow suit. She’d have a horrid sore neck and headache the next morning, but it was nothing one dose of painkillers wouldn’t mask.

The pair slept a full eight hours. No nightmares.

When Tim woke up to the natural morning light drifting through his curtains, and a blonde messy lump next to him, he tried to stop himself from crying. The emotional relief was so sharp, so intense, it nearly overwhelmed him.

He could do it, he told himself for the thousandth time. He could show her. This was how it was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week three of social isolation has lead to this fic at the moment being 40,000 words long and me halfway through drafting chapter eight so assuming April is no worse than March (jinxed it) we should have a finished fic by early May! Organised! I am that sometimes.
> 
> Wishing everyone the best! See you next time, where things only get worse!
> 
> Dress references: There's no single dress, but if you google Rosa Clara's Seoul and Saleta dresses, or Pronovias' Icarus you will get the idea of what angle I'm going. It's not what I think she'd want to actually wear, quite. The length of the sleeves and the train etc... everything is just bigger than what she would have. Cass' dress when I eventually get to it is in fact a Maggie Sottero dress that I just in my head recoloured. Arleigh Rose it's called if you are curious :D Ahhh, times like this make me happy to be a girly girl and watch endless Say Yes to the Dress episodes with my mum (no Pnina Tornai dresses please no oh god no).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie experiences micro-aggressions for twelve hours and snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to fiddle a bit with the ending of this chapter, hence the slight delay in this one popping out. Regardless, I hope you have all had a lovely weekend, Easter Egg filled or otherwise. I made a lamb stew and now my flat stinks of garlic. Happy times.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

There was something unbearably tender about waking up next to Tim, so much so that Stephanie buried herself back under the sheets in a foetal position until he would leave the room. She repeated this process for every night after patrol, when they collapsed into bed together. Tim had taken to resting on her stomach, even under the sheets, apparently deciding her belly was the comfiest cushion in the world. Stephanie, unable to help herself, would stroke his hair as if he were a cat. He would consistently nod off and wake first, she only ever a few moments after him.

This morning, she felt him rest over her, creating a little bridge over her lumpy form.

It was weird how quickly they had settled into a routine. But they hadn’t quite crossed the bridge yet. They were stuck somewhere halfway, Stephanie’s foot caught in the metaphorical wooden planks. Alone, it was real, in public it was fake. And Stephanie didn’t believe it would continue once the façade had collapsed.

She had not allowed anything more than a kiss on the cheek in private. That day had been difficult and traumatic, and she was trying to comfort Tim. That was all, she told herself. She wasn’t going to play his game.

Continuing their public appearances, they had gone on one coffee date at the college campus, which had consisted of her doing actual work, and Tim redrafting a report for his new community project for the tenth time. It was nice, even with Tim playing footsie with her. They’d sat indoors, but still in sight of the main street, and sure enough when she checked twitter there and then, she saw posts of herself sat at the table enjoying a vanilla hot chocolate.

Mrs van Rijk was entering full manic mode, giving hourly updates to the status of everything Tim and Stephanie could ever not give a hoot about.

“How do you feel about birds…?” Mrs van Rijk had asked last night over the phone. Stephanie had the phone held out in front of them. Somehow, she had ended up pressed against Tim’s chest as they – for a lack of a better term – cuddled on the sofa. Stephanie had swallowed, throat dry, as she reluctantly asked a question in return.

“Like… decorative… birds?”

“No, no. Real ones.”

Stephanie felt like punching Tim and his pinched face as he struggled not to laugh.

Madness.

Back in the bed, Tim rested his cheek on her shoulder, the bed sheet providing the only barrier to the casual intimacy.

“Gotta go to work.” Tim managed to twist his fingers around her exposed hair. “Good luck with the designer today.”

“Mmmkay.” She muttered, shifting a little. She poked her eyes above the duvet, to see Tim was fully dressed in a sharp suit. “Bye, handsome.” She teased, voice rough with sleep.

She then moved back under the sheets, as she sensed Tim would have kissed her on the forehead if she had remained where she was. She realised her little compliment was a mistake the moment she said it.

It seemed Tim did not mind, as he rocked her from side to side playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, beautiful.”

She tried not to blush. Tim didn’t compliment her appearance much. Steph was Steph and she was perfectly fine no matter what. The casualness of his flirting was both uplifting and mortifying. She had failed to lay down boundaries, and Tim, little weasel that he was, had wriggled his way past them in ways she did not know how to handle.

Last night she had dreamt of something that she would confess to nobody, not even her diary.

_Flipping bastard and his dumb hair… and good teeth and pretty hands… long fingers…_

_Nope._ She shook herself, banging her head against the mattress. _Nope nope nope._

When they were younger, and when they used to actually get the time to neck like proper teenagers, Tim had a (great) habit of biting and sucking on a part of her neck that would make her shiver in all the good ways. She hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but it seemed her subconscious had not forgotten. Nor had it forgotten how worked up he could make her when the right mood struck him. Stephanie rubbed her ankles together.

Into the vault _that_ dream went.

She still felt her cheeks were warm when she arrived at Rebecca’s apartment. She was alone this time, and had one job: get her hands on Rebecca’s phone.

Easy. Considering it never left the woman’s back pocket or ear.

“Tell me about him.” Rebecca asked, pinning the fabric at Stephanie’s waist a little tighter. As dresses went it was still barebones in structure. No sleeves, and the skirt was not attached to the bodice. Well, Stephanie assumed it was the skirt. At the moment, it just looked like a mountain of netting and taffeta on a desk.

“Tim?”

“Mmm! I always like to hear about the couples.” She snorted a little bitterly. “Let’s me live vicariously through them.”

“You want to get married?”

“To the person I love? More than anything... Like I said, I have to live vicariously through my brides.” She backed off, thick rimmed glasses sitting either on her face as she worked closely on details or up on her head as she looked at the rough fit from a distance. “Tell me about Mr Wayne.”

“Uhh, oopf.” Stephanie struggled to gather her thoughts. “I...we met when he was fourteen and I was fifteen. I was having an argument with my dad… and Tim literally crashed into me. His hair was overly spiky, and he looked like a freshly slapped baby.” She laughed, for the first time in a while, at the thought of that night. “And… we didn’t spend a lot of time alone, but then he hunted me down, little stalker that he was. And then I couldn’t leave him alone after that.” Sighing, Stephanie shut her eyes and let Rebecca do her work.

“When did you know… that you loved each other?”

“I...” Difficult question. “I… don’t know if it’s spread everywhere now, but I had a baby, when I was fifteen.” Rebecca flashed her a look, and Stephanie tried to gather herself. “I found out less than a week after Tim and I started dating. And when I told him, I was so flippant. ‘Cause it was obvious right? He wouldn’t stay with me? And why would he? We’d been on only one date at that point. Nobody would expect a fourteen-year-old to stick with something like that… but he did. And he helped me beyond explanation. For so long I didn’t understand why, but I guess in that moment, for me, it was then.”

“And Tim?”

“Oooft. I don’t know for Tim. He had to leave Gotham for a bit… after the quake… he told me constantly how hard it was for him. I didn’t believe him though until he was having an argument with Bruce, and he blurted it out. The L word that is. _That_ was a shock to my system.”

Rebecca was stitching something along Stephanie’s neck, and Stephanie could feel the hot breath brush over her. Occasionally the needle felt uncomfortably close to piercing through her skin.

“But you weren’t together all the time until now?”

“…No.” She struggled on how to word it. “Everything with his dad… and I had to leave… and then you’re not the same person you were five years ago and you’re tiptoeing around everything…” She sighed sadly, speaking nothing but the truth. “But I don’t want anyone else. I don’t feel safer anywhere than with him.”

The needle finally pierced Stephanie’s neck as Rebecca’s fingers stumbled. Stephanie hissed, losing her footing. She managed to catch herself by gripping to Rebecca’s waist, who seemed mortified at her blunder.

“I’m so sorry! Let me see?”

Being a needle prick, there was no blood to ruin the white fabric. Rebecca huffed and Stephanie laughed uncomfortably.

“No worries. I do it enough to myself when I sew.” Slowly, trying to be discrete, Stephanie let go of Rebecca’s waist, fingers drifting over the mobile which was peaking out of the designer’s cardigan pocket.

There. Done. Fancy schmancy tech implanted. The rest was in Bruce’s hands, and Stephanie could relax a little.

“Mm. Sorry. Back on the stand and back on topic…”

The rest of the fitting passed without issue. Stephanie blabbed about Tim, though left some moments out. No-one, not her mother, not Cassandra, not Bruce or Babs, would know about their date after her father had died. That was for them and them alone. She was very protective of those moments, and potential murderers were certainly not allowed to know of them.

It may have made her and Tim’s relationship seem shallower than reality, but Stephanie didn’t care. She truly believed Tim held them close to, and wouldn’t have wanted them shared.

She was requested to return for another fitting the next week, for fine tuning. Then one more after that, and then it was the day of the wedding, whereupon Ms Andrews would bring the dress on the day, make any last second adjustments, and attend the wedding, with a plus one if she wished.

“No…” She had said. “I try to keep my work and private life separate. I’ll go alone. To see you in the dress… that’s good enough for me.”

Stephanie had only nodded, given her thanks, then left. Rebecca’s phone had rung twice during the sessions, the second of which had Rebecca shiver with fright. More and more Stephanie began to pity the woman. As a result, suggested changes that Rebecca made Stephanie acquiesced to with little argument. The lace became less fine, and more bohemian, and the skirt, if possible, became even longer.

Back at college, Jordanna had moved from being her bodyguard to being a gnat.

“Do you read the comments? On you and Tim’s Instagrams?”

“I try not to.” Stephanie uttered, taking a large bite of her lunch.

“Good. Boy, I spend hours going through them. Some real nasty people out there. I’m surprised you haven’t turned off comments actually, considering what people write.” Stephanie shot Jordanna a look. Jordanna continued, ignorant of her discomfort. “Some of the name calling… oh man.”

Glutton for punishment that she was, Stephanie swallowed dryly. “What… what do they call me?”

“Never you mind.” And Stephanie got slapped on the chin, teeth jangling against each other. “And even if you were a whore, I’d still hang out with you.”

It seemed Stephanie’s expression finally sparked some level of compassion in Jordanna, who swiftly realised she’d spoken out of turn. “Most people like you though. Honest.”

“…I’m going to go now.”

“Aw come one Stephanie… it’s just weirdos online.”

“Bye Jordanna.”

She ended up driving her little purple car back to Wayne Tower again, for reasons unknown to herself. She poked her nose out at the security guard, this one a different guy to the one who had immediately let her and Cassandra in the other day, but he soon let her through when he saw her id. Someone met her in the main lobby, getting her through the gates and into the elevator. He seemed nice, whoever he was, but Stephanie didn’t miss how his smile slipped off his face in the very last moment right before the doors shut.

She tried not to shiver at how cold he looked.

These people didn’t know her, Stephanie tried to tell herself. That was all. It was hard to be kind to something you didn’t know or understand.

Tim loved her. Cassandra loved her. Babs loved her. Kara loved her. Bruce…Bruce loved her.

Stephanie tried to convince herself that they were the opinions that counted. And she had managed just fine before they’d even liked her.

That didn’t mean it didn’t still _fucking_ hurt when people put her down.

Tim was waiting for her again when the elevator doors opened, face more than a little curious, but he relaxed when he saw she wasn’t in tears this time.

She hugged him regardless, breathing in his cologne to try and refocus. Tim gave a muffled laugh and nuzzled into her hair. He’d been flying on cloud nine for a couple of days now, having somebody he loved who loved him back in his arms (in his bed). Tim knew he was being a little possessive, but he was just thankful to have Stephanie’s warmth back in his life, with this time round no chance for Bruce to spoil it. He was trying to have something just for himself. He could be selfish? Right? So long as Steph was willing to be selfish too. Although that bit was certainly a work in progress. How to convince a selfless person to be selfish. A question for the philosophers perhaps.

“All good?” He asked, noticing that she wasn’t entirely relaxed.

Abruptly, to avoid talking about why she had actually come, she conjured a reason to visit.

“Can I see Bruce? I had my fitting this morning.”

“Yeah, sure. Just… can I introduce you to some people first?”

“Oh? Yeah, happy to.”

“Just my p.a.”

“You have one of those?”

“Yup.” He nudged her, as they began walking down to the open office. “There was also a board meeting today. They’re all invited to the wedding– which… yeah – so –”

“Makes sense to at least say hi. Sure, sure.”

She clung once more to Tim’s arm, feeling underdressed to meet some of the most important people in Gotham. Black trousers and converse, she at the very least was wearing a floaty top rather than a sweatshirt.

The p.a. was nice, a lady in her fifties who seemed supremely good at her job and didn’t care who knew it. Mrs Blackwell, Stephanie reminded herself.

“We were all surprised by this, that’s all.” She spoke, sitting primly on the edge of her desk. Stephanie noticed that Tim tensed, like he had been on the receiving end of this conversation before. “We honestly thought… well with how things went with Tam and –”

Tim coughed loudly. “That was just… I was only seventeen.”

Mrs Blackwell peered at Tim. “And what a difference three years makes! Glad to see Tim hasn’t totally forsaken the average people of Gotham for high flying friends.”

Something about that phrase seemed to make Tim very, _very,_ uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that Stephanie likely spoke out of turn to give Tim a moment to collect himself.

“He won’t.” She pushed. “And he doesn’t need me to remind him of that fact.”

Tim wouldn’t give up the costume. Not now. Once, she had known of his conflict. How much he resented Bruce for messing with his head. Making him doubt, making him mistrust. Making him forget there was a life outside of the suit. She had played her part in that, as much as she now regretted it, she knew now the only way Tim would ever stop helping the people of Gotham was when his heart stopped. Stephanie had silently promised herself that she would try to ensure it continued beating for a long time.

“Stephanie’s not average.” Tim choked out. It was a weird part of Mrs Blackwell’s statement to take umbrage to, but Stephanie appreciated it all the same.

“Good response.” Mrs Blackwell teased. She looked over her shoulder, down the office. “There’s still four board members hanging around in room twelve-fifteen if you want to catch them. Believe Mr Wayne is still with them. And Mr Fox.”

A cheeky glint made Tim turn – impossibly – paler. Stephanie didn’t quite understand. Lucius had always been nothing but nice as far as she knew. Was this still about Tam? She didn’t really know what had happened there. Tam had gone to look for him when he was off being Mr Brooding with Mr Al Ghul, they had dated for a bit when they had returned to Gotham, gotten engaged… Which Stephanie knew was just because Vicki Vale was the most flustering person on the planet and Tam had panicked trying to cover for Tim… not that it had stopped Stephanie’s stomach from dropping out her butt and becoming intensely jealous when she had no right to be. She had felt the same when she had first returned and Tim was dating Zoanne. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand the thought of Tim being happy with another girl. She had flirted when she shouldn’t have. In her head, it meant that he had moved on, never really mourned her. Maybe she was too possessive over him.

It wasn’t logical, and she had no right at the time to feel what she did, but she wanted Tim with her, hypocrite that she was. It was just another thing she disliked about herself. Tim deserved to be with whomever made him happy. Simple as. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that she was that person again, but he’d soon wake up and remember what she’d done to him, how self-absorbed she could be.

Stephanie didn’t know why Tim and Tam had broken up, but she suspected it had something to do about Lucius’ public death being faked.

Funny how that sort of thing didn’t do well for relationships.

Tim wasn’t fickle…that wasn’t the right word, but he could change his mind very quickly, regardless of the consequences or who was left behind afterwards.

As Tim led Steph to the board room, she couldn’t help whisper, “You still work with Tam right?”

“…Yeah…”

“She still mad at you?” She tried to tease gently, but her tone didn’t quite match her intention.

Tim only glanced at her and grunted, pulling the door open for her to walk through first. Bruce was seemingly fast asleep on one of the chairs, the other four board members, one woman, three men, were chatting quietly amongst themselves whilst the CEO slept. Lucius was the first to notice that the pair had entered.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. Bruce opened one eye, eyebrows twitching when he saw who it was. Lucius made his way forward with a hand for Stephanie to shake. “Miss Brown! You came to visit?”

Stephanie breathed a relieved sigh, and smiled. There were three friendly faces in this room, so that was manageable.

“Yes,” She said, shaking Lucius’ hand in what she hoped was a confident manner. “Finished with college for the day.”

“She had a fitting this morning, for the dress.” Tim gushed, and Stephanie smiled shyly.

That caught the lady’s attention. She had moved to a refreshments table, grabbing them both a drink of water. “Tell me about that.” She encouraged, wrapping an overly friendly arm around Stephanie and pulling her down next to Bruce, who smiled somewhat encouragingly at her. The other two men went to speak to Tim, not really pretending to be interested. One of them bumped past Stephanie as if she was in the way.

“Stephanie, this is Theresa Song.” Bruce explained. “She started here before I was born.”

“I was only sixteen, but back then, you joined a company and worked your way up the old-fashioned way.” She laughed, and Bruce returned to closing his eyes. Stephanie took it as a sign that this woman was safe.

“I wish it was still like that.”

“Oh yes, but that’s what our employee programmes and scholarships are for. I hear you help out at Dr Thompkins clinic.”

Stephanie glugged water. “Leslie? Yes, she looked after me for a while, I do what I can to pay her back. Not that I ever can…really… But yeah, I try to do Friday evenings.”

“That’s good! College, volunteering…”

“Part time job at the library too. Oh, that is a lot.” That plus the night work. “I have…I have had to defer college for a bit… going part time for the moment. At least until this wedding stuff is done.”

Theresa shrugged. “Whatever needs doing right?” She looked back at Bruce, kicking his chair. The seat swung round, and Bruce just hummed in affirmation, eyes still closed.

Theresa made a disgruntled noise, then shouted across the room. “Timothy!”

Tim bumbled over as the two other men left. Stephanie didn’t miss the sideways glances at her. One looked like he was leering. When Tim got close enough, she reached up for his hand. He began to play with her fingers, rubbing her knuckles in a way she used to like.

“Hey, Theresa.”

“Where on Earth did you two meet?”

“Just… ran into each other in town.” Tim perched himself on the glass table.

“You literally crashed into me.” Stephanie chirped, not missing Bruce’s lip twitch.

“You must be so proud, Bruce. All these people finding their way to you despite adverse circumstances. I mean, Stephanie, your parents... And your pregnancy, and I heard about what you went through during the gang war... Terrible stuff you’ve had to overcome. Thank goodness for Bruce, right?”

At that Bruce opened his eyes and stood up. “I think Stephanie would have done just fine without me, to be honest. I didn’t help much.”

“Mm.” And she turned back to Stephanie, noting that Bruce was ending the conversation. “All the best to you both.”

“Thank you.” Stephanie uttered, feeling Tim acting like a block of ice behind her. “Bruce? Can I have a quick word?”

“Of course.”

And then Theresa left. Only Mr Fox remained, having been listening in.

“She seemed... nice.” Stephanie tried to sound positive.

“Oh, she is.” Said Lucius, who then joined the trio at the table. “Until you’re on the other side of her on the voting panel, then she’s a beast.”

Tim snorted, and Bruce poured himself another glass of water.

“The tech for the phone is working, I got the information I needed.”

Stephanie started at Bruce talking so openly about the mission, but she supposed Lucius must have provided said tech in the first place.

“How’d you get on her phone anyway? You said it’s never out of sight?” Tim asked, collapsing into the chair Theresa had been occupying.

Stephanie rubbed her neck. “She stabbed me with a sewing needle. Made me stumble.”

“ _Intentionally_ stabbed you?”

“Heh. No. I said something which I think upset her, her fingers slipped.”

“What?”

Tim watched Stephanie’s face grow red from embarrassment.

“You… it… She was asking about our relationship. She asked me about why we loved each other…I said…” She looked at her feet. “I said that I felt safe with you.” She practically vomited the words out, quick, slurred and quiet. However, Bruce heard it all the same, and ignored the blinding smile that Tim gave.

Lucius watched Tim’s face, then tutted quietly to himself. Bruce meanwhile focused on the mission.

“I’m going to find this boyfriend tonight. Investigate his living circumstances, his employment history, all of it. I don’t know how deep she’s tied up with him.”

“So, it is the same guy as the domestic dispute calls from years back?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. That one was arrested last year. Seems some people just attract—”

Stephanie coughed loudly, refusing Bruce the chance to finish that damning sentence. “She’s terrified, and she’s being used to hurt people. Please track this guy down.”

Tim looked at the clock, not liking where the conversation was going. “I’m gonna head off now. You coming?”

Steph nodded, following Tim to the door. “I’ll drive behind you. Bye Bruce, bye Mr Fox.”

“You two live together?” Lucius asked, a little baffled. The pair looked back at the two older men, unsure what Lucius was getting at.

“Uh, yeah. At Tim’s.”

“Oh. So, it’s… pretty serious then.”

Instantly Tim and Stephanie were as red as apples. “Bye Lucius. Have a good weekend. See you later Bruce.” And then Tim hurried Stephanie out and into the main office space.

When they arrived home, Tim peered in his fridge.

“… Hmm. I’ll order takeout. Pizza or Chinese?”

“Chinese.” Steph replied, hanging up her coat. Before Tim could hunt for the menu, Steph stopped him, hands on his waist.

“You were embarrassed today.”

“A little.”

“…About me?”

“What? No. Not you.”

“But you got so angry at the Bishop, when he looked at me funny. And then when Mrs Blackwell said I was less than your usual social circuit. And then Theresa saying I was lucky Bruce found me… and now Lucius being surprised that you actually like me…What is it?”

She was looking at him like his next words better be chosen carefully, or another argument would ensue.

“I guess I’m like you. I don’t want to hear what other people think about us. It’s private. But we have to make it public. And I…am conflicted about it.”

Earlier conversations sprung to mind, and with it came a sudden opportunity. Impulsively, without a moment’s thought, she latched on to it.

“You don’t like being in the public eye. You don’t like our relationship being there for everyone to judge.”

“No.”

“Then – then why are you? You don’t have to be. If you’re feeling pulled in so many directions, then just… just… drop one of your responsibilities.”

Tim blinked, not sure what to make of this sudden manic behaviour. He tried to be a voice of reason. “I can’t drop being Red Robin.”

“And I would never ask that of you. But there are other options for you aside from heir to Wayne Enterprises, right? You can quit. And we could—”

“We could what?”

Now Stephanie had to choose her words carefully. Tim held onto her elbows, looking increasingly upset. “Steph, I help a lot of people during the day, and where I am, being in that position under Bruce… it’s the best place for me to try and make like…structural changes. Busting drug rings and human trafficking, that’s good, but stuff like the Park Row project stop people becoming that desperate in the first place.”

Her burst of impulsiveness settled, and she felt ashamed for even having thought she could push Tim away from helping people.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I just… I had a moment there, where I was being selfish. I’m not going to ask you to give up anything. I’m not worth that.”

Tim looked as though something she had said had triggered a thought in his mind.

“You can be selfish…” He whispered. And then he tugged at her arms. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”

He pulled her upstairs, into his room, where he asked her to wait a moment. He disappeared into his closet, whereupon Stephanie lowered herself onto the bed, shuffling so she was sat in the middle, cross legged. At the end of the bed was the cursed duck, sitting with its triple chin and beady eyes on full display. It seemed to migrate across the room, ending up in slightly different positions every time Steph saw it. She was partially convinced it was a possessed toy. Watching her, judging her.

_Fucking duck._

Tim returned with two boxes, one substantially larger than the other. He set both on the bed, blocking her view of the duck, then clambered on in front of her, resting on his shins. He held out the smaller box.

“I bought this at the same time as the engagement ring.”

Stephanie opened the box, noting that her hands were shaking, and found a ruby bracelet inside. It was polished uncut gems, engraved with birds flying across a landscape.

“Is this…is this better than the ring? I thought when I was buying it that it wasn’t too bad. I tried not to get you anything you would hate, but I guess I overestimated myself. The bracelet is better though, right?”

He sounded so much like an insecure child in that moment, that Stephanie didn’t know how to respond. It was just…too much. Especially for someone like her.

“Tim…” She sighed, reluctant to even touch it. “It’s… why did you buy this?”

“Red birds…isn’t it obvious? Look, I’ll help put it on.” His touch was gentle, as it always was, cool but not entirely confident. “There.” He rotated her wrist in the dim light, smiling nervously. She was just staring blankly at it, giving away nothing.

Finally, she smiled. It looked fake, but trying to avoid an argument, Tim let it slide.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. One more thing.” He dragged the next box over. Steph huffed.

“Oh, Tim, you’ve never needed to buy me stuff. That’s not why I—”

“I didn’t buy this.” He interrupted. He was trembling, so wound up with nerves. This might end badly, but he wanted to prove to her how serious he was about the whole thing. With this, she might understand that he wasn’t leaving her once the mission was over. He was desperate to get a fresh start, prove to Bruce that he was fine, he didn’t need to be monitored, to have Dick stop looking at him like he was a puppy five days away from going mad with rabies. Another Jason Todd in waiting.

Being with Steph made him feel lighter, made him remember who he really was. He wasn’t willing to let that go, not when he knew she was so close accepting she was enough to hold him to her.

“Close your eyes.” He urged.

“Tim.”

“Please. For me.”

Stephanie did as she was told, listening to Tim rustling around. Then, weirdly, she felt him very solidly place something on her head.

Her eyes shot open to the sight of Tim kneeling up, very carefully and precisely placing what felt like a very heavy headband on her head.

“It was my mother’s…” Tim murmured, kneeling down to see what it looked like head on. He began to play with her hair, arranging it just so. Stephanie looked on in a continued shock. “It’s old, in case you were wondering, mom left it to me. Left all her jewellery to me, actually. Guess she didn’t want my dad to give it all to his next wife… Wouldn’t have made a difference in the end but..”

Stephanie reached up and held his wrist, reassuringly. She was here, she had returned to him, even if his parents had not.

Tim took a shaky breath. “I want you to have them.”

“As your fiancée?”

“As whatever you choose to be. These are for you to keep.”

She looked to the side, to where Tim had a mirror taking up a section of the wall. The tiara was golden and round, nearly a circlet, with amethysts around the base and three larger ones providing the focal point. Small pink flowers and leaves encircled the stones, with each flower having a round diamond in the centre. It was not overly sparkly, it was not ostentatious. It was beautiful, and Stephanie felt so out of place wearing it her emotions once again got the better of her, and her chest rattled with wet breaths. Tim looked in love and smiled. It was such a pure delighted smile that she couldn’t help but reach for him, expression mirroring his, albeit much wobblier.

Pulling her onto his lap, she straddled him, legs splayed either side of his hips. As a result, his head was tilted upwards, and he looked more than a little star struck.

“You look like a princess.”

That made her smile falter, and she looked away from him.

“Baby, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I told you, if you want to be selfish, do it here. You have me. I told you. Even if the rest of the world gets nosy or rude… tell me it outweighs moments like this?”

He cupped her cheeks, and Stephanie relaxed, letting him carry her weight. Tim smiled, seeing she was thinking over what he was offering.

“We both know we’re not getting married for real in a couple of weeks. But we can just delay it. We don’t have to get married now, ‘cause yeah, we _are_ only twenty, and we don’t ever have to get married, if you don’t want to. But Stephanie, I want to be with you. And you want to be with me. Don’t tell me the past few nights, being next to me, don’t tell me they haven’t been –” Tim broke off, frustrated at his inability to explain himself.

“…Keep going.” Stephanie whispered.

“Listen, all I can say is what I’m feeling and I… I love you. I always have. And I watched you ignore me and Bruce’s put downs, I watched you screw up again and again, and I watched you claw all that respect back. And now I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. My head feels clearer ‘cause I know you’ll pull me in the right direction if I misstep. You know me, warts and all, and I’m _jealous_ over you. God, I’m so… And I don’t want people watching. I don’t. They don’t know you like I do, and they don’t deserve to. But I want you with me. And that hasn’t changed. It never has. I don’t know how to make you believe that, so I thought…with my mom’s stuff you’d see... Please. You’re not selfish Steph… I am. I want the day job with all its perks and downfalls, and I want to be Red Robin. And I want you next to me for all of it.”

The pair were silent for a long moment, as Stephanie processed what he said.

“…I’m afraid.”

“Of _what_?”

“All of these people, looking at me…Dismissing me.”

“Prove them wrong! It’s what you do!”

He meant it encouragingly, but it seemed to trigger Stephanie’s temper.

“I’m tired, Tim!” She yelled. “I am tired of having to do that. Why can’t the world cut me a break for once? Why should I have to prove I’m not a whore, or an idiot, or that I’m capable, or that I really love you? Why does it matter to anyone else? Why can I not even get through one day without someone trying to make me feel three inches tall? Even if I had you, and I do have you, I know that, I still see how much everyone’s watching me. I’ll slip up and you’ll remember what went wrong last time. It’s what I do. And I’m tired.”

“I can’t give you that motivation, Steph.”

“No.” She sniffed, pulling and picking at her nails. “I tried so hard. And then being with you… it’s like being flung back six years. Everyone doubts me. I’m not strong enough to do it again.”

“You’re blaming me?” Tim asked, looking a little horrified.

“I’m blaming the society you fly in.”

“I need that to do my job.”

“I know. That’s why I can’t… you won’t be able to stay with me. I’ll just dr—”

“You are not a burden.” Tim breathed, chest heaving. “I don’t know how to make you see that.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“No but I love you and –”

“Tim…”

“And I don’t like seeing you like this!” He laughed incredulously. “God and I thought I was a mess!”

He shouldn’t have said that, and he knew the moment he did. Any other day, Stephanie’s anger would have spiked, and she would have screamed and maybe stormed off, but now, she just looked like he had completely broken her heart. She took off the tiara, no wanting to indulge the conversation.

“Forget it Tim.”

“No, Steph, you’re not –”

“No, I am. And it’s not fair to you to wait around for me to get my shit together. It ruined us last time it’ll ruin us now. I can’t help you and you can’t help me.” Stephanie rolled off the bed. “Going on patrol.”

“No, wait.” Tim began to panic, and in a moment he would later deeply regret, grabbed Stephanie and threw her struggling form against the wall, pinning her. She began to fall to pieces, shoving and clawing for him to let her go. What little pride she had left in herself didn’t want her distraught emotions to be seen by anyone.

“Leave me alone, Tim!”

“No! You always do this, you can’t lock yourself away when things get inconvenient.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“No!”

“Let me go!”

And then she slapped him. And Tim flinched. And they both fell silent. There was guilt on her face, one that seemed to be eating her up inside, but then it clamped shut, and her expression became blank.

“I’m leaving now.”

Feeling he was making another mistake, he let her go downstairs to his little birds nest. He should have followed her. He should have known she was over emotional and panicked, and with Stephanie that was a recipe for disaster. He should have called Cassandra to watch over her, if he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He had his own patrol to go to.

Instead Tim laid down on the floor, utterly taken aback by how the evening had gone, and tried very hard not to cry.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, when his phone began to buzz. The Titans were calling him.

So tired of having no one to talk to about this, he answered the phone.

* * *

Stephanie collapsed on the stairs of Tim’s own Batcave, right hand sodden from tugging open the switch which Tim had hidden in his little fish tank. He had shown her how to get in months ago. Just in case, he said.

He’s trusted her with access to _his_ space. Months before any of this nonsense had kicked up again. He’d been letting her back in. And she’d crumbled once more, and kicked him out.

If there was one thing Stephanie was incapable of being, it was cold. Her sarcasm was light and fond, her concentration was witty and playful, her joy was dazzling, her anger was blinding, and her grief was all consuming.

If she was trying to be cruel, it wasn’t working. She was sobbing, every piece of self-loathing pouring out of her like her scars were still open wounds. Her legs gave way, and she folded down into herself. She began to pull at her hair and cover her ears, shaking her head from side to side.

She needed to leave the apartment, and Tim. Just for a bit. Until she could forget what his bed sheets smelled like, until she forgot how _stupid_ being with Tim made her feel.

For God’s sake, she was _Batgirl_! She wasn’t an insecure sixteen-year-old hunting for approval from anyone who would look her way. She was better than this.

Stephanie pulled herself upright and ran over to where she had – temporarily – stored the Batgirl suit. Still sniffing to herself, she got dressed, and rode off, hunting for someone to beat her own pain onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for the views, kudos and comments. Chapter 7 will be out next Sunday. I was half of the mind to upload it at the same time, as it really is the resolution to this stretch of angst, and I don't like leaving things at such a low point but hey. A week's wait is not too bad right? 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed. See you in a week! Over halfway now...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things combust, and the healing starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you are all keeping well! I want to thank you for the comments on the last chapter! That kind of feedback honestly help so much when I am redrafting future chapters, so I can go back and emphasise or make more explicit certain things, and pick up on just flat out mistakes within current chapters. I honestly appreciate it so much, and I really appreciate how kind everyone has been in doing so. Warms my heart beyond belief. I hope you enjoy the following chapter.

“Hey…” Tim said, still lying on the floor.

“Dude!” Conner’s voice came through, exuberant. “Bart you were right! He did answer!”

Bart’s high-pitched giggle ran straight through Tim’s bones. It cut off abruptly as he processed Conner’s incredulity.

“Why do you guys always think my plans are bad?”

“Shush.” Cassie’s voice also drifted in. Tim must have been on speakerphone. “Tim… what is going on? Like… is this for real?”

“No way.” Said Conner. “You would have told us. It’s gotta be fake. Weird fake, but fake.”

“…It’s not fake.”

“Pardon?” Bart asked, being awfully polite. “Why didn’t you keep us in the loop? Or are you channeling Batman this month?”

“It had to be real. Like super real. No heroes, no nothing.”

“Bullshit, Tim.” Conner’s tone was fond, but a little exasperated. “Kara’s been on my ass about it too. Some of us have secret ids yaknow. No metas in Gotham rule aside, we could help?”

“I mean… it’s complicated. There’s a bunch of murders recently.”

Cassie sounded worried. “We saw the news the other day. You and Stephanie were shot at?”

“…Yeah. Someone’s targeting brides who wear this designer. Steph and I were trying to make ourselves the next pair on the list… the guy botched it and shot Bishop Sherborne.”

“So… once Batman catches Mr Always the Bridesmaid Never the Bride… then what?” Asked Conner. “No more wedding, I guess. Which – yikes – bud. I’ve seen the stuff online. Some people are being brutal about this whole thing. You have too many fake engagements people aren’t gonna believe a real one after that.”

Cassie piped up again. “Not to mention Steph is gonna be thrown into limbo, right?”

Tim was silent as he listened to his friends. He couldn’t explain. This is why he didn’t tell them. They weren’t doing it intentionally, but they were setting off all his alarm bells. It seemed Bart heard something in the silence that the others did not, and asked, more than a little befuddled,

“Wait… you and Steph aren’t _together_ together for reals are you? ‘Cause, you really should have told us! Like no bachelor party? Really? No me as your best man?”

Conner sounded very affronted when he cut in, “Eh. No. That’s me.”

“You can have a girl as your best man right?” Cassie pondered. “Nowadays? I’d be good at that…”

Tim rolled onto his front, utterly depressed. “I don’t know. Know what I wanted… Know what Steph wants…”

It seemed Tim’s sadness finally clicked in the minds of his friends, and Conner lowered his tone.

“You getting your heart broken bud?”

Tim’s eyes grew wet. “I can’t help her.”

“Help her how?”

Cassie began to shoo the other two away. “Let me speak to him. One to one.”

“I can still hear the phone you know.”

“Shut up, Conner. I don’t want you and Bart butting in.”

“Rude.” Bart chirped, but did as he was told. There was shuffling, and the sound of someone being kicked, but soon enough it was just Cassie on the other side of the phone.

“Can’t help her how?” She repeated Conner’s statement, and Tim heard him huff in the distance.

“We… we both want to be together.”

“That’s…that’s good Tim. Right? So, what’s the issue?”

Tim sneered. She wasn’t making it sound good. They just wouldn’t understand, but Tim continued to try.

“But she… I thought she was in a better place. I thought _I_ was in a better place. But the stress is getting to her. She’s tired of being judged. And that’s all I can offer her.”

Cassie was quiet but full of conviction when she responded, “I don’t believe that.”

“No but…Cassie I’ve never seen her like this. Like she’s three steps away from jumping out the window. And that’s supposed to be _me._ I don’t know how to show her, that she doesn’t need to be frightened. That other people don’t matter. People just aren’t coming on side, not entirely. Not even her helping Bishop Sherborne when he died was enough. And she’s losing her drive.”

“Could you…” She mused it over. “Have you got an event coming up?”

“The engagement party.”

“No, no. Something smaller. Something about your job. Something you could share with her. Show her she doesn’t need to be afraid to share a life with you. Start small to build back up confidence. Steph’s…she’s a little rough round the edges.”

“She’s from Gotham.”

“Exactly. But the more she does that sort of stuff with you, the more people will get to know her and that squidgy centre you talk about. I mean those engagement photos were _beautiful_.” Tim burned red. Of course, they had seen them. “And I want her red dress more than life itself, but that’s not her. Not you really either. You both do stuff outside of nightwork… do that stuff together y’know?”

Stephanie had asked him about his work. She had asked several times in fact. She had been on multiple visits to his office, watching as he went through conference calls, reports and other dry white-collar work whilst she sat with her college notes spread around her. She herself had said she was interested in what he did. Tim blinked, a plan coming together.

“…Thank you, Cassie.”

“My pleasure.” She said, sounding smug. “Is she there with you now?”

“No… we… we had an argument. She’s gone to cool off on patrol.”

Conner pinched the phone then. “Not to sound judgy, but man… she’s got a temper. And you said when she gets angry, she gets stupid.”

Defensiveness replaced depression, and Tim’s tone became a warning. “Conner.”

“I’m just saying. Think you should go find her.”

“She’s competent Kon.”

“…Sure.”

It was very difficult to not take an imagined slight to Stephanie as a slight against himself. “What’s that mean?”

“Listen, dude—”

A frantic beeping from his phone interrupted Conner. It was the distress signal of Batgirl, one that she did not ring often, or ever, and Tim’s heart stopped.

_No. No. No._

“Have to go.”

“Wait –”

“It’ll be over in two weeks so bear with the radio silence.”

“Huh? Dude don’t shut us out after –”

“Bye.”

And he hung up, then rushed downstairs.

* * *

She had fallen, because if Stephanie suspected of how she would die, it would be from gravity being a bitch. Some bastard had shot at her, she had jumped to avoid it, then collapsed through the roof – rotten wooden beams giving way under her weight. She had crashed down with a horrendous smack, and likely had a concussion. Her neck had snapped in such a way that left her terrified to move her head. Her leg felt damp. Struggling, she pressed her little beacon. Someone would be on their way soon. Outside the building, she heard that man whooping in victory, trying to figure out a way in.

She was in over her head. She wasn’t paying attention. And now she was in agony on the dirty floor of some shithole in Gotham, a murderous drug lord wanting a piece of her.

Wow, she really _was_ spiralling down.

And somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to blame Tim. He hadn’t caused these issues. He’d been honest with her, given her multiple opportunities to back out. And she had hurt him, in every manner of speaking. Even if he had been putting her under pressure… she didn’t…

She didn’t even blame Bruce, who was only trying to protect people, and entrusting his family to help him do so.

Her issues were hers and hers alone. Maybe she’d never really dealt with them, maybe she’d never really worked her way through them. Maybe she just buried it all. Ignore it, and it will go away.

She wasn’t sure how long she was left alone on the floor, safe from the man outside, but however long it was, it wasn’t enough for her to get back on her feet. Her head lolled on the ground, and she tried to push herself up. Keep moving, that’s all she had to do. She’d been through worse and coped. She only managed to get onto her hands and knees when someone grabbed her blonde hair and ripped her back, making her cry out in shock. Her neck clicked oddly. Her left leg limply dragged across the floor, leaving red streaks behind her, whilst the right spasmed, trying to get a footing so she could kick herself upright and punch the bastard, but her head injury was disorientating her beyond being of any use.

“Can’t believe it’s that easy to take out one of you lot.” The cold feel of a pistol pressed against her jaw. If fired, it wouldn’t kill her immediately. This guy wanted her to hurt.

No. She had to apologise to Tim. She had to… She had too…

She had no time to prepare a snarky comeback, because one of the family’s hook shots had rammed itself into the guys arm. He shrieked, hand dropping the gun and her hair, allowing her to roll away into the corner to get a better look at her leg.

She looked up, to see Tim, fully dressed as Red Robin amongst the rotting rafters, angrier than she had seen him in a long time.

She got caught between sharp relief and guilt. Tim had come for her. Dutiful, loyal, Tim.

Letting her head thump against the floor, Stephanie flittered in and out of consciousness.

Tim, meanwhile, had lost his temper.

He knew he was a bit overprotective of Steph. He also knew she was competent. She had been through a lot with and without him, and as Batgirl had saved Gotham multiple times over. He wasn’t a white knight coming to rescue the damsel, but something feral would be set off seeing her in danger. Didn’t matter if he was fifteen or twenty, someone hurting her, someone _touching_ her, was enough to set him off.

It wasn’t like with Captain Boomerang, where everything was calculated, cold and methodical. Steph was hurt, Tim had the means to make the man who did it hurt.

And hurt him Tim did.

Stephanie watched most of it, not really in the right frame of mind to do anything but watch. She wanted to call for him, pull him back to her. But then she would black out for a moment. When she would reawaken, any chance at orientating herself would be lost from the view in front of her.

Bones were meant to be inside limbs, right?

Tim’s torture continued until Dick yoinked him away.

“That’s enough. Okay? Don’t make the same mistake as me.”

_Dick was home?_ The thought was enough to cause the red to fade, and for Tim to start to catch his breath. His stomach began to drop. He’d done something stupid?

No. Where was Stephanie?

Nightwing had him held in such a grip that was designed to allow Tim to break out if he wanted, but also jolt into him some semblance of what he was doing.

Tim blinked, then wriggled out of Nightwing’s hold. His brother looked more than a little white at the scene before him. Tim’s chest was heaving, and he could feel sweat dripping off his chin. Slowly he turned to see what damage he had done, then immediately looked away. He _had_ done something stupid. And potentially murderous. For her. Again.

Stephanie had somehow pulled herself into a sitting position, one leg laying limply at an angle. She was breathing heavily, trying to control her body’s response to the pain. Her head was tilted, resting on her shoulder, as if it was too heavy for her neck to support.

“Batgirl…” And then Tim was at her side, looking for the injury in her leg. She hissed when he got close, but from what he could see, there was no fracture, only a puncture wound.

“Landed on the crates. Mother of all splinters..!” She felt her eyes rolling around, vision a blur, and grunted to herself. Play it off. It’s not serious. She hadn’t messed up. Not really, not as bad as before.

Her tone was deliberately light, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to smile. He had realised that his hands were wet and didn’t want to pick her up if he was going to smear her in more blood.

“I’m sorry.” She said, taking Tim away from his brooding. “I hit you. I shouldn’t have.” She looked like she was going to start crying, the pain in her leg and head coupled with the guilt seemingly too much. “I don’t want to hurt you and I did. I’m sorry.”

Tim wanted very much to pull back her cowl and stroke her hair, but restrained himself.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did.”

“No but –”

He shushed her and she whimpered. Shamefully, he gripped and wiped his hands on his cape, trying to make himself somewhat presentable, then very carefully, very gently, picked her up in a bridal hold. She cried out but reached up to wrap her arms around him.

Nightwing called both the police and an ambulance, staring at the dying man on the floor. Dick couldn’t do anything to help him, too many broken bones to even move him safely.

Tim watched Dick’s face grow cold.

“I’ll take her back to my apartment.” Tim said.

“No, you will _not_.”

Tim’s temper spiked again, though holding Stephanie he was unable to act on it as he would have liked. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

The signature sound of Batman’s cape fluttering, and the distant noise of sirens approaching, made the potential argument end.

“Nightwing, drive them both back to the Manor. Have Batgirl checked over.”

There was something very odd in Bruce’s tone that Tim wasn’t used to hearing, but it made him a little frightened.

“As said injured party member…” Chirped Stephanie, head craned back and straining her neck. “I feel like… I need a medical.”

“Hurry up!” Nightwing ordered, making his way to the batmobile. “You can drive my cycle but put Batgirl in the back.”

Four hours later, out of her costume and several stitches in her leg from where she had received the mother of all splinters, Stephanie’s head began to clear. She remembered Tim swooping down, and she remembered him hurting that man. Badly. Really badly. All because she lost her footing. All because she was in the wrong headspace to go out on patrol.

She was better than that. She knew she was. 

She stayed silent, but when Tim returned to her side, the two stared at each other for the longest time. Neither knew where to begin.

Bruce started it for them.

“Do I even need to say what went wrong tonight.” There was no question in his tone. Just a flat, tightly bound anger that Stephanie nearly whimpered at the sound of. She shook her head.

“I messed up. I let my emotions get in the way and I got hurt when it was easily avoidable.”

If Bruce was impressed by her self-awareness, it did not show. He turned to Tim. “And you?”

Tim said nothing. Only glared. Stephanie pressed her hands to her eyes, she wouldn’t be able to block out the sound of the oncoming argument, an argument that was her fault, but that didn’t mean she was going to watch it.

“Tim.” Bruce pushed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nightwing, who had been sat a little back from the whole scene, piped up. “You know that’s a sack of bullshit Tim.”

Tim’s ears burned red, and Bruce didn’t miss the look of betrayal on Tim’s face at his brother. Seemed like that look was all Bruce was seeing recently.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Tim repeated.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“This is just one more thing in a continuing dangerous trend with you and I have half a mind to –”

“I don’t answer to you anymore!” Tim was turning as red as his uniform, but Bruce would not be moved.

“You’re both grounded until the wedding is finished.”

Ordinarily, Stephanie would have fought back. Bruce was not the boss of her. Even Babs barely counted as a mentor anymore. Not really. She was her own keeper, and Bruce attempting to parent her was just an embarrassing effort at best.

Now, with her hands pressed over her eyes, blind to anyone’s expressions, she nodded her consent.

“Promise.” She warbled.

Tim on the other hand, was in the mood to fight. He was so wound up from the day’s events, with no outlet, that it poured out of him defiantly. His voice cracked childishly.

“No! No, no! She didn’t do anything wrong and her injury isn’t even that bad!”

Dick watched Tim grow increasingly frustrated and frowned. What the hell had he missed the past six weeks? Bruce was going to return in kind with an equal aggression that would only serve to blow the roof off the cave, so Dick decided it was his turn to intervene. He got up and shoved past Bruce, physically grappling Tim and dragging him away from Stephanie. Bruce could cool down for a moment and talk to the crying girl. He’d try to give Tim a reality check.

When they reached the stairs, Tim wriggled out of Dick’s grip, eyes still on Stephanie, but his anger was directed straight at Dick.

“What do you think you’re—”

Dick grabbed Tim’s arm again, shaking him, making Tim look at him. “I think Tim, you’ll be needed to look after Steph. Yeah?”

“I don’t need to be grounded to do that. I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m not being punished for something I didn’t do!” Tim protested, tugging back to remove Dick’s hand from his arm. Dick huffed, feeling Tim was letting his ego get in the way of the point he was trying to make.

“I really don’t care about that. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re both off kilter. Take a break. Look after each other.”

“I am _not_ –”

“Tim look at her!” Dick hissed. Bruce had moved over to Steph’s side, and sat next to her. Tim watched as the two talked.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, voice somewhat softer.

“I… I’m having a bit of a freak out at the moment.” It was an odd thing for her to confess to Bruce of all people, but he seemed to be listening. “The whole… pretending to be in love mission is throwing me off more than I thought it would.”

“Pretending?”

“Oh God…” She moaned. Where did Bruce get off sounding so confused? What did he even think of her and Tim as a couple? Were they that transparent in their pining? “I’m finding it emotionally taxing.”

Always easier to be flippant. Say exactly what you mean, but hide it under a layer of sarcasm as a back door exit in case the sincerity of the statement was called into doubt. Bruce did not doubt her. Instead, he asked her something else.

“Can you keep going?”

“I swore to.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Then Bruce leaned forward, grabbing her wrist. He tugged it away from her face so she wasn’t hiding her eyes. At the look she gave him, so tired and _sad,_ his grip moved down to her hand, and she squeezed back.

“I can keep going.” She sniffed, her bodily pain catching up with her miserable mood. “Not gonna lie, Batman… I feel like I’m slipping back into bad habits.”

“That’s why I said no patrol.”

“I know.”

“You going to listen?”

She nodded. “No Batgirl for a couple of weeks…Promise.”

“At the very least you can catch up on sleep a bit.” It was meant to be reassuring, but Bruce’s claim made Stephanie snort a gentle laugh. “And work on whatever is troubling you.”

Stephanie’s smile faded. “I can try. That’s all I can do at the minute. I’ll fix it.”

“Okay. I’ll get Alfred to give you a painkiller to help put you down tonight.” Bruce looked to Tim, who was in the corner with Dick. He looked equally miserable but chewed his lip and walked back over.

“I want to take you back to the apartment, Steph, if you want me to. I’ll take a couple of weeks off with you.”

She nodded. “I want that. Lemme get my drugs first.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened a little as he inspected Tim, who was stubbornly avoiding his gaze. Their conversation would have to wait. Once dosed up, Stephanie wrapped her arms around Tim’s shoulder, and hoisted herself up so she could hop over to his car.

“Goodnight Bruce…thank you.”

His mouth twitched, but with what emotion, Stephanie couldn’t tell.

When they got back, Stephanie managed to get settled on the bed. Tim promised to stay up with her to ensure she wouldn’t pass out with nobody to check on her. She lay like her limbs were made of lead, her head resting on a pile of pillows trying to support her neck.

“I’ll be okay. Alfred said since I can hold a conversation and my pupils are normal, I’ll be fine.”

“Your pupils are not fine. They’re as big as dinner plates.”

“That’s the painkillers.”

“I know… I just…”

She smiled. “You worry.”

“Yeah.”

She looked down at her hands, wringing them together. Her fingers on her right hand settled on her engagement ring, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry Tim, for everything. The argument and the hitting and me being a brat for weeks…You don’t… you don’t deserve any of this.”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did. And I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He fought back.

“No…not really.” She wrung her hands. “There’s no excuse. I’m better than this… better than my dad.”

“You’re not your father.”

Stephanie nodded in response. He thought she believed him.

Tim, who up until this point had been standing on the other side of the room, moved to sit on the bed. He was facing away from her, but Stephanie could see both of their faces in his mirror. The guilt that was rippling across his face was hard to watch, so she stared straight forward instead, looking at the fat yellow duck at the foot of the bed. Tim saw her do so, and his fingers curled up in the bed sheets.

“Can we get some things out in the open? Like, brutally honest out in the open?”

“Interrogating someone whilst their high on painkillers? Sure. But can I start?” She asked. Tim screwed up his nose and nodded. Stephanie kept her eyes on the duck. “Why did you hurt that man so badly?”

Tim’s palms became sweaty, and he nervously wiped them down his sweatpants.

“He hurt you.” He offered lamely.

“No. This was… this was different.”

“It is related to why Bruce and I don’t get on much in the suits anymore.”

Understatement. She didn’t know what he’d done. She couldn’t know…

“You think you have to be that harsh? Your fighting is getting colder and crueler. I worry…”

“What I was doing before wasn’t working. I’m not Jason. Not that far gone. But I’m not… not the same person I was when I was fifteen, Steph.”

_Please don’t abandon me for it_.

Stephanie shifted, creeping out from under the covers. She curled up behind him, her sore leg still stretched straight, and then reached around so she could link their fingers. She was smiling a little dopily, and Tim would have found it sweet if he could have gotten the day’s events out of his head.

“Look at us. You’d think we’ve been through some traumatic things the past few years.”

Tim raised his eyebrows at her teasing. “Weird that.”

Steph laughed, though it sounded a little slurred to his ears.

“You know, I figured out a long time ago. Why I love you.” She whispered conspiratorially, begging Tim to play along. Eventually she would conk out, drugs and injuries tiring her out too much to stay conscious, but Tim let her take the conversation off track. Her breath and hold were so warm it was nearly feverish. She had seen him nearly murder a man, but then she had let him pick her up with blood stained hands, and she now held his fingers like nothing was wrong. Maybe the pair of them were beyond help, but Tim couldn’t give up the idea of a happy life for Stephanie. Preferably with _him_ in it but…he wasn’t too picky.

“Why?” He muttered.

“You’re so gentle. _So_ gentle. No other guy I know comes close to it. And, yeah, at first, I was infatuated with you because oh so cool Robin, so brave, so smart… but when you stayed with me despite the pregnancy… I don’t know how to put it… you have a giant brain and a giant-er heart. I don’t care about how well you can hurt people. That’s never been part of it. And I believe you’ve never enjoyed that bit of superheroing. Knowing you had come for me, that made me feel safe, that was all I needed. Watching you nearly kill that man…”

“I panicked.” He confessed. “You’d left on such shaky terms and then your beacon went off and all I could see was red. I was so upset.”

“I was frightened for what you would do. For a second.”

Her stating her worry seemed to almost traumatise Tim. An uncomfortable length of time passed as he worked through what she said in his head. Stephanie didn’t know him. She didn’t love him. Not who he was. Not really. That violence was part of him now. She said she knew him, but with who he was now staring her right in the face, she did not want it to be true.

She leaned closer, her breath a warm whisper against his neck. “I told you. I won’t let you forget. Especially seeing that violence tonight. I promise Tim. That’s not you.”

He choked a little when he responded, trying to play it down and play it off.

“I try not to think about it. The moment I do for too long, I’ll believe Bruce is right to be worried.”

“Nah. He’s just being a dad.”

A long moment of silence passed. Stephanie continued to play with Tim’s fingers whilst she did nothing but think through the day’s events. Finally, she pressed her forehead against the back of his neck, against the burn scar he had received what felt like so long ago.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you love me? Actual quantifiable reasons.” She shifted behind him, uttering more to herself than him, “Gimme an ego boost.”

Tim answered immediately, “Because you’re brave. Because you refuse to accept your lot in life. Because you’re beautiful. Because you came back to Gotham when you had every right to leave forever. Because somehow, after everything he’s done to you, you don’t hate your dad.”

“Don’t _like_ him either.”

She didn’t respond to any of his other points. She was trying to accept them as truth, as Tim had yet to lie to her for all of this hellish two months. But something just prevented her from absorbing it. That wasn’t her. Or maybe it had been.

“Not the same thing.” Tim sighed and leaned back. The way she was sat meant his head thunked on her collarbone. “Steph? You’re a _good_ person. Even if you doubt it sometimes. Reason enough.”

Steph’s breath washed over Tim, smelling of the medicine she had slurped down earlier.

“I hurt you.”

“Remember when I throttled you and kicked you in the stomach?”

“That was different.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m a big boy and can handle an argument here and there. This pity party, Steph… it helps no-one. Speaking from experience here.” Tim’s mind drifted back to his conversation earlier. “I have an idea. Well, Cassie suggested it actually.”

“You spoke to the Titans.” There was a flat curiosity in her tone. It wasn’t aggressive, just resigned.

“They’re getting sick of being ignored. Don’t think embarrassment is going to cut it as an excuse anymore.” Tim watched as Stephanie looked away, ashamed from being chided. “Listen. I want you to come with me to do some stuff for work.”

“What stuff?”

“Tomorrow I’m visiting the community centre down the road. There’s an after-school club for kids whose parents work crazy hours. We funded the renovations and pay a few members of permanent staff. It’s just a fluffy photo op, but you might enjoy it more than anything else I do for my job.”

“How old are the kids?”

“Middle school and down.”

She sat still and thought it through. Tim sighed. “Listen. You once told me that I was going to drive myself mad one day.”

“You _are_ going to drive yourself mad one day.”

“Why?”

She huffed, already knowing what angle he was playing. “Because you worry too much and have overly controlling tendencies when left unchecked.”

“…Yeah. Sure.” He tried not to sound too resentful as she relayed his flaws so dispassionately. “So, where’s Miss “The Only Variable You Can Control Is Yourself”? Huh?” Tim nudged her jaw with his forehead, causing her to grumble. “You do you, Steph. The rest will fall into place. Come with me to this event. Play some foosball with kids.”

She screwed her eyes shut, and Tim watched her at the awkward angle. Finally, her internal battle ended, and she nodded her head.

“It’s another thing for the job if nothing else.”

“I’m not asking you to do it for the mission.” Tim breathed. He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. “I mean it’s a side perk sure, but I just want it to remind you that you’re not a bad person.”

Stephanie finally pulled away, back under the covers of the bed. Her eyes were wet.

“I’m maybe not a bad person but I am a mess. Don’t know why you put up with me.”

“That’s okay.” And Tim crawled over to her. Being unbearably tender, he pulled all of her hair to one side and began to braid it, hoping it would help her sleep better than her usual tangled mop allowed. A sudden memory occurred to him, and he smiled absentmindedly. “You’re worth a few stomach ulcers.”

She looked at him suspiciously at his weird statement, handing him a hair tie from her wrist as he worked his way down. “I haven’t changed my mind. About what I said. I’m not emotionally ready to be with you. Not strong enough yet.”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, tone light, trying to not pressure her too much. He finished tying off the braid with an exaggerated snap of the elastic.

“With you?”

“Mm.”

“I do, Tim.”

“Then I’ll wait. After this mission is finished, we can… start from scratch again. Take it slow.”

“…I like the sound of that.”

“And in the meantime…” He got under the covers next to her. “We work on one thing at a time. Like a checklist. Number one, sleep and work off that injury.”

“Tim…” She smiled, but it was brittle and fell very quickly. Tim stroked loose strands of hair away from her face, and she shut her eyes. “How do you know I’m not just using you? You could be with someone like Tam right now. Why stay for the promise of maybe?”

“Well, firstly, you don’t have a manipulative bone in your body.”

“That’s a lie.” Her voice was starting to slur. She was growing heavier and sleepier with each moment.

He quickly rebuffed her rebuttal. “Mmm? I don’t know about that. And secondly,” He rested his hand on her cheek. “I don’t want Tam, or anyone else. Just you. I want to be happy. So, I want to stay in Gotham. I want Bruce to get off my case. I want to help people. And I want… I want you. That’s all. Think that’s…pretty standard for a guy in his twenties.”

Softly, slowly, Stephanie had moved closer and closer whilst Tim mused aloud. When they were sharing a pillow, Tim’s eyes drifted down to her lips again, and chewed his own nervously.

“You can kiss me.” She said, tone still flat. “If you want to. For real.”

“…Not good for you. You said. Once.”

“Once.”

But Tim knew she was only saying so to punish herself. He may have been sick in love with her, but he still wasn’t so far gone as to make out with someone who, as far as he knew, was still pretty high on painkillers.

Then their foreheads were touching, and Steph’s hands were burying into Tim’s hair. He felt awfully cruel when he did so, whilst knowing it was the right thing to do, but Tim reached down, under the sheets, and pushed four fingers into her stitches.

She shrieked, rolling away on to her back. Her cry turned into one of laughter, then she groaned, writhing a little under the sheets as the pain in her head and leg sharpened at the sudden movements.

“No funny business madam.”

Breathlessly, she grunted, nodding a little too fervently.

“Sure, sure.”

She was becoming that last stage of manic before the exhaustion caught up with her, so Tim tried to gently press down on her limbs, one by one, hoping to create a reassuring weight to help calm her down.

“Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see.” He laid back down, wrapping an arm around her, essentially making them spoon. His hand reached for hers, and he began to play with her ring. “Wanna take it off? To sleep?”

She shuffled backwards, until the curve of her spine pressed against his chest. “S’okay.” And then she yawned, nuzzling her way into the pillow.

They lay in comfortable silence for a long moment, before Tim reached back to turn off the lights. When his hand returned to hers, she called his name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy to her own ears, as she was half asleep when the thought came to her.

“Tim?”

“Mm?”

“You promise to wait for me? Just a bit longer?”

“Promise.”

She squeaked happily, then promptly began to snore. Gone. Tim chuckled, then closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Tim and Bruce have a chat and Stephanie learns to enjoy herself. Next chapter will again be next Sunday. I finished the first draft of Chapter Nine last night and it's already at 7,400 words. So yeah! Big boy... Just the last two chapters to draft up now. Nearly there?
> 
> As always, thank you for the hits, comments and kudos, I hope you are continuing to enjoy the story. One of my favourite Steph moments is in the next chapter if that's somewhat enticing...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph cheers up, Tim and Bruce has a conversation, and Steph has another fitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1,000 hits yaaaaayyyyyy. Thank you all again. Let's jump straight in yeah?

“Tim? Open up.”

It was Steph, calling for him to get out of his slumber, but sleep still beckoned, so he rolled onto his back, breathing heavily. Her hand rose to hold his cheek, and the slight shake he felt as she did it made him open his eyes.

She was leaning over him, giving off enough heat to be a furnace, blonde hair creating a golden curtain around them. She was smiling, so Tim smiled back.

“Feeling better?” He asked.

“Yup. You have a way with words.”

“I meant your leg.”

“Oh. Nah, that hurts. Head too. I’ll live though.” She shifted, resting one hand next to his ear on the pillow, and then she moved down, placing her head on his chest. For a solid three minutes, they lay in silence, Stephanie draped across Tim, listening to his pulse. She sighed happily. To her, Tim’s heartbeat and it’s solid thumping was instantly calming.

“Yesterday was difficult.” She said, eyes shut.

“We all have them.”

“Yeah but –”

“I swear Stephanie Brown if you apologise one more time…” His voice was threatening, but only in a way that served to make her laugh.

“What will you do?”

“I haven’t thought of it yet. Too early in the morning.” He shifted, still too comfortable to rise. “Actions speak louder than words and all that…”

“I'll be better. I am better.” Stephanie murmured. She wiped at his eyes, displacing any crusty sleep that had formed. The thumb movement turned to her stroking his cheek, and she moved up, until their noses were touching. Tim went a little cross eyed and swallowed, and Stephanie laughed at his expression. Cheeks feeling warm, she asked,

“You still want me to come today? With you to work?”

“Always.”

Bashful all of a sudden, both Tim and Stephanie’s cheeks blushed pink, and to find a way out, Tim glanced at the clock, seeing it had gone eight am.

“Ah. Better get ready now.”

It was Stephanie’s turn to gulp. He kissed her forehead, then got out of bed.

“Can you stand? I guess I should have checked that first.”

Stephanie swung one leg out of bed, and then the left followed, much more stiffly than the other. She hoisted herself up, wincing a little. Biting her lip, she gave a soft curse, but then placed both feet firmly on the floor.

“Stand? Yes. Stand for long? Questionable.” She laid a hand on the bedside table. “Tell me what to wear. Are you wearing a suit?”

“God, no. It’s just a kids club. Jeans and t-shirt will be fine, Steph.”

She chewed her lip, a little uncertainty returning. “Okay,” She stated. “But I’m gonna curl my hair.”

Tim sat, quite content to just watch, as Steph perched herself on the lip of the bathtub, curling and pinning her hair just so, desperate to make a good impression.

* * *

There was something genuinely impressive about watching Tim do something as banal as giving a little speech and unveiling a plaque, but Stephanie was a little in awe regardless. She spent much of the event a little smug at the thought that this handsome guy loved _her_. When the plaque was unveiled to much polite laughter and clapping (his dorky jokes were horrendous and she found herself smiling at every single one), Stephanie wobbled over to a younger group of kids whilst Tim and the adults spoke. They were sat in a semi-circle, a few with their parents. She collapsed with a slight grunt, ensuing her hurt leg stayed straight, and tried to smile brightly. A few gave polite smiles back, whilst one or two looked unsure of what she wanted from them. Stephanie recognized one of the mothers from Leslie’s clinic down the road. Half a bodyguard, half a receptionist. She was an actual hoot, and familiar enough of a face that Steph could at least find a way to break the ice with the parents and their children.

“Hi!” Stephanie chirped, directed at everyone. 

A young girl blinked, then scrambled upwards, yoinking on her mother’s hair.

“Mommy! She gave me candy last month!”

The mother winced, trying delicately to remove the sticky grip of a six-year-old from her hair. She looked to Stephanie the very definition of tired.

“I doubt it honey.” She soothed.

“Oh?” Steph asked, “At Amusement Mile? You were with your dad?”

“Yes! Cotton candy bigger than my head!”

“Yes!” Stephanie laughed. “Wow, what a memory you have!”

The girl preened at the compliment, whilst the mom’s shrew look turned a little softer. Leslie’s receptionist leaned over with a side hug. She was a large woman, both in height and weight, and it was in total contrast to her little boy, who was the very definition of a wall flower.

“You didn’t mention you were coming!” Stephanie was rocked from side to side, and she grew bashful.

“I know, I know. It was last minute.”

The little girl demanded attention back on her, and wriggled her way right into Steph’s face. “You’re getting married soon my mom says.”

“I am. A week and a half to go.”

The little girl giggled. “Are you wearing a tiara?”

“Flowers.”

“No! You’d look better in a tiara!” Then the girl, brazenly but also impressively, began to tug _Stephanie’s_ curls. Her mother looked mortified, but her little girl just seemed exuberant. Stephanie let her be, besides, she wasn’t hurting anyone.

“I have a pretty big dress, we thought it might be too much…”

Another little girl gasped and began to crowd round Stephanie. She built a little audience as she talked, but the boys were uninterested in weddings, so did not engage.

Leslie’s receptionist grew a little sober as Stephanie indulged the children, “But you’re still going for the cathedral?”

“Yes.” Stephanie by that point had a girl clambering on her back. She tugged the girl upwards, trying to ignore the pain in her head. “The Dean thought it would be good, to show whoever did it that we’re not frightened.”

“Any idea of who did shoot?”

Stephanie only shook her head. “It’s supposed to be a happy moment, right? Think our stubbornness has kicked in.”

“You did well,” One mother cut in tentatively, “Sitting with Bishop Sherborne.”

Stephanie swallowed dryly, unsure of how to respond. “It shouldn’t have happened.” She adjusted the little girl on her back, holding her up higher. “So, you guys all go to the school round the corner, right?”

“Right!” Chirped Stephanie’s clingy monkey. “Mommy works a lot. At the hospital!”

“My mom does too!”

The three hours passed quickly enough, Tim doing a lot of talking with adults and Steph spending most her time with the kids and their parents. For the first time in a while, she felt comfortable. She could tell photos were being taken, but there was something reassuring about the validation of children. This part of his job Tim loved, and Stephanie could only agree. These were the people they were fighting to protect, not their own ego, and this was a good reminder. She understood why Tim had thrown himself into this job as much as he had Red Robin. If he was worried about forgetting himself, she hoped this job would have sufficed as a reminder.

A reminder of _why_ he was allowing himself to forget.

Steph sighed, growing a little melancholy, as she hoisted herself off a chair, wobbling over to Tim. He was chatting to a man and a lady, one with a notepad, the other with a recorder.

She stood, off to the side, feeling awkward and unwilling to interrupt. She watched Tim for what felt like a long while. She watched his sharp eyes flitter from person to person, flashing with sardonic humour at every silly question, and how seriously he listened to people when they spoke to him. Tim was a good listener. Very non-judgmental. Even though she sometimes wondered…

His gaze caught hers, and with a tilt of his jaw, he beckoned her over. When she reached him, he gave her his arm to help her balance, and he supported her against every micro-aggressive comment that was thrown their way. It was only when Tim’s phone rang – Bruce on the line – that they had to bring the event (or at least their attendance) to an end.

When Stephanie waved goodbye, a member of staff approached.

“I’m so sorry, if this is presumptive…”

“No? No, can I help?”

“Just, if you have spare time…” Spare time was something Stephanie was having increasingly less of in recent days, although this leg injury had certainly opened her evenings for the next week. No doubt it would be taken up with catching up with college, which she had blatantly been skipping.

“I would love to come back. I can…” She looked around the space, “play with the kids or…”

“You volunteer at Leslie’s?”

“Yeah.”

“You can do some simple first aid stuff with them?”

Her first instinct was to laugh at the idea of showing a five-year-old how to do CPR, but then Steph remembered what kinds of homes these kids came from, and the idea of teaching them how to look after themselves and others suddenly made sense. She nodded her confirmation.

“Sounds good. I’ll see if Leslie has anything for kids that I could work on.”

“Just come in whenever you like to discuss further – one of us will always be about.”

Tim mouthed a thank you and off the couple went. As they left the building, Alfred was waiting for them with a car. Tim huffed. He had wanted to check on how Steph had felt coming with him, but Bruce had called and asked them to come to the manor. Stephanie, who for her part, was becoming a little unsteady on her feet, grimaced at the sight of the car.

“Where we going?” She asked.

Alfred’s moustache twitched imperceptibly. “Having seen your condition Miss Brown, back to bed for you.”

“I’m alright.”

Tim snorted, and Stephanie looked back to him, affronted. “I am! Honest.”

As if God had heard her, her leg gave way, with Alfred and Tim reaching to catch her. She made a weird noise as Tim tugged her back up, and she stood on one foot, the weaker tilted off to the side above the ground.

“I think, Steph, Bruce wants to speak to me privately anyway.”

“Oh.”

Alfred held out his arm for Stephanie to take. “I will drive you back down the road and get you in bed, then I’m afraid we’re off to the Manor.”

Gritting her teeth in a tense grimace, she took Alfred’s arm, and hopped down to the car. She looked back at Tim before she got in, and gave him as bright a smile as she could manage, trying to thank him.

When Alfred returned for Tim, the mood distinctly shifted without Stephanie there to lighten everyone up. Maybe Alfred shared Bruce’s opinion. For some reason Tim felt like he was being driven into a prison for death row inmates. A one-way trip.

Tim knew where this conversation with Bruce was going to go, but only if he let it. Tim had something else on his mind, one that had been a growing thought ever since Bishop Sherborne had died.

Bruce was downstairs, only half in costume, when Tim loudly trod down the steps. Damian was nowhere to be found, so Tim could only assume Dick had taken custody of him that day.

Whatever programme Bruce had been working on at the computer, he closed before Tim get could get a good look. Tim reached the control panel and waited for Bruce to acknowledge him. Bruce seemed to be deep in thought, for once not pretending to work on something else to occupy his time.

Tim waited.

“How is Stephanie today?” Bruce finally asked. A gentle question. Tim started, again taken aback by how openly Bruce cared for her. Ever since Bruce had seen Steph step into Batgirl, he’d been almost enamoured with her. No, not the right word. But Tim saw how he was trying to make up for past mistakes, and Steph, soft hearted no matter how much she would deny it, had allowed Bruce to do so.

“She’s better. I took her to the Park Row Community Centre this morning. They’ve asked her back to help with the kids. She liked it… I think.”

“Good. And her injuries?”

“She was tired at the end. Alfred took her back home.”

Something in Bruce’s face twitched at Tim’s casual statement of his apartment being Stephanie’s home.

“Do you understand what you did wrong yesterday?”

Tim turned away, seeing the pleasantries were over. “I told you once. This is me, for better or worse.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

Jesus, he was sounding just like Stephanie.

Dick had once said that people were not their worst moments. How he believed that whilst knowing Bruce for twenty years Tim didn’t know. Bruce was _defined_ by his worst moments, and Tim supposed this was a growing similarity that he and Bruce shared.

Tim cracked his fingers, trying to keep his temper in check. His chest felt frozen, and his feet too heavy to shuffle.

“Do you really think I’m going to kill somebody one day?”

Bruce said nothing, only looked at Tim. Tim, in his jeans and t-shirt and messy hair. Tim, who was looking more well rested than he had in months, but who still looked so out of place within the manor and confused at his position within the family. He looked like someone who had just turned twenty and didn’t know what to do with themselves. Such a contrast to when he was thirteen and had forced his way into Bruce and Dick’s lives.

Tim seemed to take Bruce’s silence as confirmation, rather than the uncertainty it was. Suddenly he moved closer to Bruce, hands out imploringly.

“I know I’ve been… off… for months now. But I… I’m trying to get back on track.”

“Are you?”

Tim blinked, lowering his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me what’s been ‘off’ with you. And what you’re doing ‘to get back on track’.” Bruce glared like he knew Tim was just trying to weasel his way out of taking any responsibility for himself. Tim truly didn’t think he was doing wrong, so ignoring the flash of very hot anger he saw in Tim, Bruce tried a different tact.

“Did Stephanie say anything about last night? Does she know about Har—”

“Don’t.” Tim interrupted tersely. He was sneering now to which Bruce stared at Tim hard in response.

“Don’t what?” He wanted a specific answer, but what it was, Tim didn’t know. “If you’ve done nothing wrong then she should know. Right?”

Bruce was mocking him.

“Don’t _use_ her to punish me! Just stop that with her. I don’t care if you think I did wrong or that I lost my temper. That’s my issue. And she shouldn’t hear about it from _you_ to make me feel guilty.” Finally, Tim opened the floodgates, and he launched into a frantic and scattered rant. “I’m not the one who should be feeling guilty! You said you would solve this case and two months later you have nothing to show for it! Bishop Sherborne is dead, three couples are dead, Stephanie got hurt because of a mission assigned by you that is stressing her out and I’m the one trying to pick up the pieces! What the hell are you even doing? Why haven’t you caught this guy yet?”

“That’s not what we’re talking about, Tim.”

“Well I’m asking you! I’m _telling_ you, hurry up!”

Bruce finally stood. Even with Tim’s late teen growth spurt Bruce still towered over him, and Tim couldn’t help but want to increase the distance between the two.

“Take a breath.” Bruce said. “Try to calm down.”

Tim jolted, suddenly aware of his stinging eyes and wobbly breath. _Fuck._ He grunted, and backed away, pressing his palms to his cheeks, hoping the pressure would cool him down. Bruce looked on, concerned. Tim was knee deep in denial and frightening him wasn’t going to make him see reason. Out of resentment of being told what to do, Tim’s chest continued to rattle with wet deep breaths.

“I’m not using Stephanie.” Bruce said.

“Yes… you are. And don’t…act like she’s not your golden girl right now and I’m…”

“You’re my kid, who I’m worried about.”

Tim snorted then sniffed, expression crumpling. Bruce watched and waited. Tim bit his lip, not sure what to say. Shuffling his feet, he moved to the desk and sat down on the surface, wringing his hands nervously.

“I’m sorry. For yesterday. I don’t want you to worry about me.” Bruce sat next to Tim, seeing they were getting somewhere. It wasn’t a proper apology, not for his actions, only their effects, but it was a start. “Steph and I spoke after. She said she worries sometimes too.”

“You don’t think we’re right to?”

Tim frowned, looking at nothing. He gulped, trying to get his thoughts in order, but Bruce was pushing every single one of his buttons, and his mind was frantic and flustered.

_Remember how much you didn’t want to be Bruce but how much of him you admired and imitated, remember that Batman with a gun and how he made points you agreed with, remember trying to rationalise murder and how vindictive you felt holding Harkness’s life in your hands, remember how many times you lost your temper when Stephanie or her memory where threatened._

_Remember telling Cassandra that you didn’t enjoy hurting people, remember the relief and joy you felt being hugged by Bart, Conner and Cassie when you called for their help after so long, remember train surfing with Dick and the pure joy it brought after the first time he called you little brother._

_Remember sitting on Steph’s front porch, telling her you feared where Bruce was forcing your mind to go, cruel suspicious places that doubted the people closest to you. Remember her listening, eyebrows furrowed, as you told her you were quitting. Remember quietly asking if that meant she wouldn’t want you anymore, only for her to laugh in response at the ridiculousness of the question._

_“My feelings about you aren’t based on the Robin suit.” She’d said._

_You’d told her you were frightened, but you were getting back in the suit. She had passed no judgement, only very quietly nodded and said that she knew._

Tim lowered his head into his hands, not sure what to do. What to say.

“I’m miserable.” Tumbled out.

He couldn’t see it, but he felt and heard Bruce’s breathing stumble.

* * *

Stephanie meanwhile had endured a very boring afternoon. After a long period of time on the sofa, leg elevated in the air, she stared through to the kitchen. Tim had a sad looking fruit bowl, filled with browning bananas and a slightly wrinkly bunch of grapes. She hoisted herself up, college papers falling to the floor, and toddled over, intent on munching on whatever she could get her hands on to stave off the boredom for a bit.

When Tim returned, she was wondering if the kitchen had a loaf tin so she could make banana bread. She smiled at him politely as he walked down the steps to the main living and kitchen area, a little oblivious to his mood.

“I really enjoyed this morning, you know? You have to take me along to other stuff like that. And your speech was so good! You are one charismatic guy, not to boost your ego… But it was just _nice_ Tim! So nice!”

Tim had stopped near a side table, a good distance from her, as she praised him. He tried to smile, but he caught the panic in her expression as a response. Oh, he must have looked bad.

“Tim? What is it?” She pushed off the kitchen counter to give herself momentum. “What did Bruce say?”

Tim shook his head as Steph got close. She clung to his forearms, using him to hold herself up. “Tim? Tell me. Can I help?”

He was looking pale again, sad and withdrawn. “I messed up last night.”

“If you did that it was my fault first. You said it yourself, last night was difficult. No pity parties.”

“I was going to kill that man.”

“You… you wouldn’t have.” She pulled herself closer, trying to make Tim hold her. With one hand she reached up, the pads of her fingers touching his chin and lower lip. “You couldn’t Tim.”

He stared at her despairingly. “How do you know? You keep saying that you know me. Ever since we were kids you’ve said that. But I… I don’t. You don’t know what I…”

“Ssshhh.” She murmured, trying to calm him down. Her fingers moved from his lips to her own, then back again. Tim did not miss the kiss it implied, and his heart broke a little at the tender affection. “Oh Tim… You’re just going to have to trust me on that.”

“Easier said than done with you.”

“Rude.” She teased, but then her mood abruptly sobered, thinking of the past few weeks. “I think Tim, that the world really wants us to suffer sometimes.”

“Oh, I believe that.”

“But you help me. That’s what you do. Let me do the same?”

Stephanie leaned forward to rest her chin on Tim’s shoulder. It quickly turned into an embrace, Tim finally wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her hair. They rocked from side to side for a while. Tim stared over Steph, looking straight at the piano sat next to the fish tank. Another memory came to mind, and things started to click into place.

“We help each other.” He said distantly.

Another soft laugh. “Well, we can try. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Stephanie pulled back, just a little, so that their noses were touching. There was something she had wanted from Tim last night, but, ever the gentleman, he had said no. Maybe he thought she was too loopy on painkillers, maybe he thought she wouldn’t want it in the morning, or maybe he thought she hadn’t taken their conversation to heart.

All Tim had done was show her how invested he was. She wanted to pay him back.

“Is it okay now?” She whispered.

“Huh?”

“To kiss you. For real?”

Tim narrowed his eyes a little suspiciously. “Don’t do something because you feel you have to. You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.”

“With you in this space right now, Tim, I _do_ want to… Do you?”

A shared breath passed, then Tim surged forward. God, how he’d wanted. The force of the kiss made Steph back up, tailbone smacking against the kitchen counter, but she squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around Tim, blatantly groping his shoulder muscles. He meanwhile had moved to holding her neck with one hand and an arm wrapped around her waist. That hand travelled down, down, _down_ , to the thigh of her good leg. He hiked her up, so she could rest on the counter, legs spreading to let him get closer.

He then kissed her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth again, all the while Stephanie smiled in a way she hadn’t for what felt like a very long time. They kissed once more, open mouthed this time, and the movements got slower and heavier. When Tim moved away, down to her neck, she shivered, then pushed very gently at him to stop for a moment. If they kept going, they were about to start necking. Although she used to thoroughly enjoy Tim’s attentions when he was in the right mood, she didn’t feel ready to return to that stage with him, regardless of how good the whole thing currently made her feel.

He looked at her, pupils swollen and inky, and she shuddered.

“Just… just a kiss Tim.”

As if on demand, his pupils shrank back down to normal, and his breathing returned to steady after he gulped.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Her hand was in his hair then, scratching the base of his neck. She smiled widely, her eyes curving up into crescents. There it was, there _she_ was, and Tim grinned back, causing her to giggle and pull him into another hug.

* * *

The following days were increasingly hectic, to the point where Tim and Stephanie’s self-image issues had fallen to the side in favour of permanently being on the phone with Mrs Van Rijk, whose voice steadily went up an octave each conversation.

“I really have to protest Mr Pennyworth’s involvement.” She twittered. “I understand that there are rules for the manor regarding such receptions but to not have… and the weather forecast does not look good! It must move inside.”

Stephanie chewed her tongue. “I mean, he is the manager of the estate. What he says goes…”

Stephanie, who was being sewn into her dress for her next fitting, looked down at Rebecca, who was politely pretending to look focused on her work.

“Perhaps but he has to see that this is _my area of expertise_ and I resent the roadblocks is he has placed. I understand the cathedral resisting the birds but you have paid for them so I need somewhere for them to fly that isn’t a torrential downpour.”

Rebecca sniggered. Stephanie stared out the window, desperate for the conversation to end.

“I think you’re better speaking to Tim about this Mrs van Rijk… he’s more likely to have an impact on Alfred than me.”

“But he is in a meeting!”

“…Can’t it wait a little?”

“No! I need certainty regarding the –”

Rebecca watched the comical look of distress on Stephanie’s features.

“Mrs van Rijk I am so sorry I need to… Yes. Yes, no I do think you are doing an absolute brilliant job… I just…Well… Yes. Yes. Please, I can call you… Okay. Sure. Whatever you think is best. Okay. Yes! No, I think the cake is perfect I am sure of it. And yes, the flowers. I’m sure the menu is… Good talk. Bye.”

Rebecca snorted again. “Problems in paradise?” She asked. Stephanie tried not to raise an eyebrow at how bitter she sounded. Tossing the phone onto her pile of clothes, she resented the tone of the question, and defended her wedding planner.

“She’s a gem, actually.”

Rebecca humphed, backing off. After a brief moment of inspection, she sighed, and got back on her knees.

“We’re nearly there. Hemming and tidying up edges, plus some detailing. But you wanna see yourself?”

Stephanie ran her fingers down her front, feeling the texture of the lace and the volume of the skirt. It was up there as the grandest thing she had ever worn, and that was counting her photoshoot gowns and the one she had for the pre-wedding dinner in a couple of days. Alfred had been fretting about that. It had been a while since the formal dining room had received any level of usage, and an army of catering staff had been called in for what felt like the biggest lie Gotham society had ever seen.

She tried to tell herself the food would at least be worth it. And Tim.

Stephanie sighed, thinking of him. Of how to help him.

“Stephanie?” Rebecca nudged, and Stephanie flinched, realising she hadn’t responded.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Yes. Let’s see.”

She listened as Rebecca fumbled around with a trio of mirrors, continuing to stare out the window, failing to pay attention to anything during this appointment. Rebecca had failed to ask after her and Tim in the aftermath of the shooting. Stephanie had asked about how she was coping, and Rebecca dodged the question and changed the topic. Stephanie could have written it off as her wanting to stay focused on the job in front of her. Stephanie was a client, not a friend, after all. And yet Stephanie had endured endless questions about herself and Tim, about the wedding and everything in between, as if it actually mattered to Rebecca, which Stephanie had all by now given up in believing to be true.

She was trying to be civil, the woman was still innocent until proven guilty, but every now and then the woman would be overly sharp, or snippy, or judgmental, and Stephanie’s temper would flare in response. She still had that gut instinct against patronising or dismissive tones.

“Okay, turn around, tell me what you think.”

Stephanie, who had put her hair up in a bun in the shape of an oversized doughnut peeked over her shoulder, at first trying to see the damage that was visible on her back. She tried very hard not to make a face at the sight of the lightening scars that ran up her spine. Leftover from electric shocks given because she apparently writhed and screamed in interesting ways. At least her waist looked tiny. And the skirt was luscious in its length and volume. A frothing river of fabric.

“You received your veil yet?” Rebecca asked, seeing how Stephanie was staring, nonetheless.

“There’s one, that’s been passed down through Bruce’s family, think we’re going with that one.”

“And your shoes?”

“Little mesh ones… with a bow. They’re cute.”

If Rebecca approved, she did not say. She gestured for Stephanie to turn around, so she could see the front.

Stephanie didn’t know what to say, think, or feel, looking at her reflection. The dress was beautiful, because of course it was (the cynical part of her hoped so at the price Bruce was paying for it). She could even admit to herself that _she_ looked good in it. More than good. When her hair was done, makeup on, veil, jewellery… the whole thing, she had the feeling it might actually make people watching cry.

But it wasn’t what she wanted.

She could lie, she told herself. She was competent enough for that.

Besides, she truly did look beautiful in it.

So, she nodded, a little wet eyed, and smiled.

“Perfect.”

“Not quite.” Rebecca stepped up to be on the same level at Stephanie, dangerously close to invading her personal space. “I’m not sure how to say this…”

Stephanie laughed, trying to lighten the sudden oppressive mood. “Oh god, you’re going to make me lose weight, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think you want to get married.”

Stephanie blinked, not comprehending someone being that brash with her. Trying to keep her voice low, she murmured,

“You’d think I’d put myself through all this if I didn’t really love Tim?”

There was no falsehood in her statement.

Rebecca smiled, though it was pityingly. “I don’t doubt that. Haven’t met the boy so can’t speak for his side…”

_Bitch._

_“_ But yes, I think you love Timothy Drake.” She looked down to her right, musing aloud, “Love’s not enough sometimes.”

She struck a nerve, and Stephanie got sharp.

“What’s your point? Testing if I’ve got cold feet? If I want to spend the rest of my life with the first boy who ever…” She suddenly got so welled up that she choked. “ _Oooooo_!” She bunched up the skirt fabric in her frustration, shaking it. “I can give this dress back if you’d prefer! I can get some fabric from Joann’s and make a little white dress and Tim and I can go to the local registry office. Is that what you want to hear? I’d marry him even if the entire world told us no. I’d marry him even if I knew Gotham was going to blow up tomorrow with all of us in it. And I know Tim would to. Because love _is_ enough.”

It had to be, it _had_ to be. That thought was the only thing holding her fragile ego together at that time.

A tense stare off ensued, until finally, Rebecca cracked and gave a sharp laugh.

“Good! Good! I like to test some brides, make sure they’re sure.”

Stephanie continued to stare, eyes wide, nostrils flared, as Rebecca tried to downplay and lighten the mood. After a bought of nervous laughter, Rebecca was saved by the ringing of her phone. As she turned away, Stephanie felt like ripping her way out of the dress. She stayed still though and tried to calm down. The words she had vomited out settled in to her mind, and she realised she had not exaggerated or lied any part of her speech. Come hell or high water, she wanted to be with Tim. And honestly, screw every single person who thought otherwise.

Guilt and pity turned to self righteous spite, and Stephanie smiled a little to herself, rocking on her heels.

That was a much more familiar and comforting feeling she was used to and thrived within. A solid and determined _screw you buddy_ that motivated her every step. It was a little weird, but it got the job done on her day to day (and night to night) life.

Her shoulders feeling much lighter, she looked back in the mirror, dissatisfied with one aspect the most… She’d really wanted to wear her hair down.

Oh well. Maybe next time.

The thought came so naturally that Stephanie couldn’t help her startled laugh. Twisting her left hand to see the sparkles of the ring, she mused for a moment would she have liked instead for a wedding. A smaller engagement ring certainly. And a dress with much less of a skirt.

Still, this dress was on another level for most people of the world. She rocked back and forth and around in circles, enjoying the swishy noises that the skirt fabric made. Her movements grew exaggerated to make to the rustling louder and more sweeping, and her smile grew. She realised that she had almost forbidden herself from enjoying any part of this.

Like, okay, yes, the wealth on display was mind boggling and unnecessary, and yes she still felt supremely out of place at points, and yes the circumstances leading to her being here where messy and confusing and dangerous, but at the same time… the shallow part of her trembled with delight at how pretty the dress was. That inner ten-year-old who had stared at the Barbies for sale in the supermarkets, only for her mom to drag her away and deny her, had hit the metaphorical roof with joy at the chance to dress up.

She’d never had a dress _made_ for her before. She’d had a go at pieces herself here and there, not counting the Spoiler suits, and she’d worn nice dresses in recent years, but this was honestly on another level.

Such lovely dresses and yet such ugly circumstances.

She glared holes at the door Rebecca had gone though in order to have another disruptive conversation.

Stephanie didn’t understand. Surely, Bruce would have caught the bad guy by now? It had been three _months_ since the first set of murders. Whoever this person was, surely if they were that skilled of a killer, Batman would be dealing with higher profile deaths than random couples across the States. The only reason Bruce had taken an interest was Rebecca was a Gotham based designer, otherwise it would have fallen to the FBI or CIA or whomever to investigate. Bruce was the World’s Greatest Detective, right? Surely, he had it figured out by now?

Rebecca got off the phone and returned to the room, the tenseness now unbearable.

“I think I have everything I need today from you Stephanie. We have the last fitting the day before, bring the veil and shoes so we can see how it looks all together. I’ll make any last changes that night, then I’ll bring it round in the morning to Wayne Manor. Does that work?”

“Yeah… sounds good. The dress is truly beautiful Rebecca.”

Rebecca smiled and went around the back, lowering the little zip from Stephanie’s waist to her hips, allowing her to step out and get back in her shorts and sweater. Reverently, Rebecca moved the swathes of white fabric to a large tidy workspace. She wheeled over a mannequin and slipped the dress into place.

“A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl.” She said, indulgently. Steph sat on the floor to get her shoes laced on and tried not to look bashful.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. I’ll see you in a few days. The countdown begins huh?”

Putting on her backpack, Stephanie reached for the door handle.

“Sure does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual story from here on out - next chapter will be next Sunday. Hope you are all keeping well and let's hope we can start reading new comics soon eh? I miss that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cathedral rehearsal, a pre-wedding dinner, and a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead! I hope you enjoy. I am halfway through finishing chapter 11 so we'll just keep going with the Sunday updates until it's done yeah? We're nearly there!
> 
> I apologise that I didn't reply to anyone's comments last chapter, to be honest the replies will have all been the same of thank you thank you thank you but still. Thank you for the comments and kudos. This is now my most popular fic and it's not even complete yet (which aaaaaaaaaaaa thank you seriously thank you!) gosh I hope you guys like the story in it's entirety.
> 
> Chapter spoilers I guess but at the end we get why this fic is rated M not T. So uh, nudge nudge wink wink (temper your expectations though this is me we're talking about here). 
> 
> Onwards!

The rehearsal at the Cathedral had been hilarious. Cassandra had been distracted the entire time, on her phone even when walking with Dick down the aisle. Bruce has sat in the front row pew and promptly passed out, only for Alfred to repeatedly nudge him. Alfred, who was in his element of bossing people around and making arrangements for everything under the sun, seemed to be relishing the chance to do his actual job.

Bruce looked a little affronted at Alfred’s nudges. Tim sighed, then explained,

“You are supposed to be walking Steph to the midway point.”

“I am?”

He turned back, to see Crystal sat one row behind, glaring at him. Bruce promptly turned back around. Steph was far away in her mind and body, staring at the entrance all the way down the far end of the aisle, remembering what had happened the other week. Tim was pacing back and forth along the steps in front of where the Dean stood. Dean Shergate’s impressive eyebrows twitched at how distracted everyone was, whilst Dick had strewn himself across the altar floor as if he belonged there.

“The ceiling is really nice!” He said, flippant and enjoying the chaotic mood. Damian, being designated ring boy and intensely bored, yelled across the length of the aisle.

“Hurry up! This is ridiculous.”

Stephanie looked down at the tiny angry puffball and nodded thoughtfully. Cassandra clicked her tongue and snapped her fingers, pointing to Tim.

“He’s right.” She said, eyes never leaving her phone.

The Dean coughed and Tim jumped a mile.

“Yes yes! Mister Wayne, walk Miss Brown to the end of the aisle on her left-hand side, whereupon Mister Drake will be waiting on her right-hand side and walk the rest of the way into the chapel together as a pair. Mister Wayne will then walk behind the couple next to…the younger Mister Wayne and then take their seats…” And on the instructions went. Stephanie and Damian, at the back of the room, were unable to hear a thing.

“This is ridiculous.” Damian grumbled once again.

“You think?” Stephanie giggled. “Have you ever attended a wedding before?”

“No. They are boring.”

“True. Hopefully not this one.”

Damian kicked his toes on the floor, a habit he had picked up from Dick to indicate restlessness. “Father is not being very open with this case.” He said quickly. Stephanie looked down to see Damian’s cheeks burning red.

“What do you mean?”

“He won’t tell me any progress with the investigation.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically. “He won’t tell me or Tim either. Which is unhelpful.”

“To say the least.”

“Do you know why?” She asked. Damian shook his head. “Huh.” She blew a gust of air out, disturbing her bangs, and shoved her hands in her jean pockets.

She saw Bruce waltzing down to her, plodding himself to the right.

“Other side Mister Wayne!”

Bruce slid behind her, making her laugh despite herself, and Damian continued to grumble, dragging his feet after them. Steph took Bruce’s arm and tried not to gawk at how solid his muscles were. She knew he was built like a brick tank, of course she did, but still… Bruce was _beefy_.

“Who said I was going to be the one walking you down?” Bruce asked, tone light.

“Well, I guess Alfred was an option. But this whole thing was your idea. Mom wants as little to do with this as possible so…”

“Humph. Vengeance.”

Steph smiled as they reached Tim, who was actually a little sweaty. She would have taken his hand but judging by the way he was rubbing it on his trousers, it would be a little slippery.

“Jesus, Tim.” She tried not to laugh. The Dean was less amused and coughed very loudly. Instantly, she turned white. “Sorry.”

A grunt was all she got in return.

So it was fun in all the wrong ways. Dick and Cassandra, who made a career out of being gnats, had genuinely been intensely unhelpful throughout the whole thing, testing the patience of everyone in the room. Bruce was his usual foppish self, Damian had done as he was told, but made his displeasure deeply known, Crystal had frowned, and Alfred had been distracted, focused on other things. All whilst Tim and Stephanie tried very hard to practice the vows. They had not written their own, God forbid they were _that_ invested in the soppiness, but when they were going through the usual phrases, Tim broke off through his, a little befuddled.

“…and thereto I give thee my troth…Quick question?”

The Dean’s face became pinched tightly shut. “Yes, Mr Drake?”

“Steph has the obey line in hers, right?”

The Dean struggled not to roll his eyes at this usual bone of contention. “Yes, she does.”

“Can she like... not… say it?”

This seemed to break Damian, who promptly ran back down the aisle, heading for the front door. Cassandra bolted after him, chasing the teenager through the building. Bruce did not rise from where he had crumpled amongst the pews, and instead his head fell down in frustration.

“I’m not doing this anymore!” Damian was heard screeching through what was an otherwise silent building. There was a rough _oompf_ , as Cassandra caught up with him, and wrangled him off his feet.

Tim blinked, keeping his eyes on the Dean, but he did not miss how Dick next to him was turning red and looking like he had sucked a lemon.

Everyone aside from Tim watched as Damian was dragged back, which seemed to take an uncomfortably long amount of time. Eventually he went limp in Cassandra’s arms, and she tugged him all the way back up the aisle, his heels and legs splayed out as Cassandra shuffled backwards. When they returned to the chapel, Damian threw himself with a huff next to his father, folded his arms, and made an almighty pout. Bruce kept his head down and said nothing.

There was a moments silence as everyone’s heads turned back around to get back to business, but then Crystal’s hand shot up, as if she were in a classroom. The Dean, more than a little put out and desperate to move past whatever Damian’s tantrum was, nodded at her. Crystal leaned forward eagerly.

“Uh, yes. Cut that line, please.”

“Mommy!” Stephanie protested, trying very hard to not laugh. She tilted her head away, sniggering to herself. Obeying was not something that came naturally to her. Tim stubbornly held his eyes on the Dean, refusing to indulge in the hysterics of his family. The Dean’s face was very white, like he was holding in all manner of blasphemous phrases. He managed to bite out,

“It is not uncommon for many to drop it from their oaths these days.”

“So, she can?” Tim asked.

“Can ‘ _she’_ give her own opinion?” Laughed Stephanie. Tim’s fingers twitched around hers. Yup, sweaty hands. Poor boy.

“Do you want to say it?” He asked, completely lost.

She held a straight face, looking Tim dead in the eye. After a breath, she broke character and laughed. “Not really.”

Tim took a moment, then caught up with her joke, snorting in response. The Dean looked upwards and muttered a silent prayer, regretting agreeing to the plan to host a wedding at all.

“That’s absolutely fine… Now please switch hands.”

They did as bid, and the rehearsal continued. Dick was starting to turn purple he was holding in so much laughter, and it was then that Tim decided he was going to murder his eldest brother. When it got to the bit where they would (hypothetically) be signing the register, the Dean went to talk to the rest of the family, leaving Tim and Steph standing at the altar.

Tim ran his hands across the wood carvings in the banisters, settling to rub his thumb on an eagle’s beak.

“Tim?”

Tim made a querying noise but didn’t look Stephanie’s way. This was just as well, as she was nervously picking at her nails, not looking at Tim either.

“My dress tonight… is red.”

“Oh? Well… it’s a good colour.”

Steph giggled, then quietened. She stopped picking her nails and rammed her hands in her back pockets once more, not sure what to do with herself.

“Alfred actually said… well he got me thinking. The…the…the tiara… is it…”

“Still yours?”

“Oh God. Tim, I’m so sorry…” Before she could get too upset, Tim grabbed her hand and squeezed it to the point where someone else would have found it painful, but Steph felt the reassurance. The two were still not looking at each other, but she smiled and Tim answered her question.

“I’ll bring it over for this evening. My mom had a whole bunch of stuff. Let you take your pick.”

“Thank you.” She shook her head, tossing her hair back behind her shoulders. “I got to pick this outfit you know. Cut, colour, pattern… all me. Making sure my hair’s down.”

The hand holding had quickly turned to flat out fondling of the other’s fingers, playing with knuckles and rings. Steph broke first, and looked at the back of Tim’s head. She headbutted his shoulder.

“Okay?”

Tim looked back, over to Bruce, frowning. “Nervous.”

“Oh. There’s a twist huh? You get cold feet. Runaway groom.”

Her light tone did not match Tim’s openly concerned face. Finally, he looked down at her, and without a hint of shame, he said, “Not running from you.”

Steph blushed, and Tim kissed the very tip of her button nose.

Dick wolf whistled then, which earned a glare from the couple and a smack on the shoulder from Bruce.

Tim’s urge to murder Dick continued through to the evening, when Dick poked his head through to Tim’s room. Tim, who was painstakingly arranging his hair just so in his Henry Poole suit, looked increasingly stressed as the day had wore on.

“You alright there Timbo?”

“Like my heart is gonna give out any second. Peachy.”

“Well, if only you’d have let me do a bachelor party for you…”

“God, no.”

Dick looked a little affronted, but only in an amused way. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he laid across the bed watching Tim fidget. Slowly, as the silence stretched, Dick’s expression grew increasingly worried.

“Seriously,” He pushed. “What happened the other night? I checked on that drug lord yesterday and the guy is looking like an injured looney tunes character. Never seen so many bandages.”

Tim rocked, looking at Dick upside down, head hanging off the back of the seat. “You ever have a rough week, but then it’s actually like…a rough five years?”

Dick snorted. “It can feel like that. Yes.” Dick rolled onto his back. “I’m sure if I stopped and thought about it, I could make an argument that my life has been nothing but a downward spiral the past twenty years… but that would ignore how much good I’ve done and experienced. It’s always easier to focus on the bad, because we expect happiness as a norm. That’s dangerous I think.”

Tim sat up straight and turned around to look at Dick properly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you go through life measuring your time as a sort of _happy-sad binary_ , with the goal always to be on the happy end, deviations will seem worse, because you’ve convinced yourself they’re abnormal. That it’s supposed to be like that. I don’t think of my life’s purpose is to be _happy_. It makes me take the good for granted and the pain hurts even worse.”

“What do you do then?” Tim asked.

At that, Dick shrugged. “Dunno. That’s where my guruness expires.”

Tim turned back around. “Helpful.”

“I try.” Dick yawned. “By the way… be sure to compliment Steph. And make sure you don’t dance with any other girls – Cass and Babs and maybe Selina aside.”

“I know that.”

“She’s a right picture at the moment.”

Like a yoyo, Tim spun around once more. “You’ve seen her? Is she ready?”

Dick crossed his arms, a little huffy. “We’re all ready! Just waiting on you and your master hair fluffing!” 

Taking one last look at himself, Tim bolted out of his room, leaving Dick lounging on his bed.

“…At least he’s wearing a nice suit…” Dick muttered to himself.

Tim found Stephanie watching the catering staff walk by along the servant's corridors. Her back was to him, and she was bent partially in half, peeking round the corner like a naughty schoolgirl to see what was going on in the kitchen.

She was indeed wearing another red dress, whereas the one from the photo shoot had been crimson, strapless and with a sweetheart neckline, this was a deep blood red, the colour of Tim’s Red Robin suit. It was off the shoulder, but still with a higher neckline, and – like she had promised – her hair was down, with braids and twists providing a base for the tiara to be pinned to.

From the hand that was resting on the wall, he could see she was wearing another piece that belonged to his mother. A hidden wristwatch in a gold that matched the rest of her jewellery.

“Wow.” Tim said.

Stephanie straightened and turned. Tim didn’t miss how greedily she looked at him up and down, biting her red lips.

“Wow yourself!” She moved towards him, injury in her leg largely healed. Her eyes sparkled, the colour popping against her dark makeup. “Don’t we make a pair!”

“Wow.” He repeated.

With the red lip, smoky eyes, and hair so carefully arranged, it was the most done up he had ever seen her. A real bombshell. Depending on how far through the ceremony they got, the girl in front of him might actually end up as his wife in less than twenty-four hours.

_Wow._

“I’d kiss you,” Steph teased. “But you’d get a horrid lipstick stain on your cheek.”

“I’ll do one better then.” And then he kissed her cheek instead. A quick peck, but slow enough that he could feel her cheeks grow warm.

“Flirt.”

He took her hand. “Oh, look who’s talking.”

She immediately noticed he was nervous and swung their hands from side to side. “Honey, take a breath. I’m the anxious wreck. Not you.”

His chest puffed up. “Tonight, there’s gonna be some real...”

“Difficult...people?” She giggled. Tim exhaled in such a puff of air Stephanie felt her waves of hair be blown back.

“Rich people are the worst.” He grumbled. Steph simply raised her eyebrows, expression excruciatingly polite. Tim turned redder than her dress. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“No, but I can see you thinking it.”

Steph laughed incredulously, pinching Tim’s cheek like an overly friendly aunty. Alfred then found them and, in typical prim Alfred form, told them to get out of the staff’s way and go help Bruce host.

Near the front entrance, where people were being let in, one of the tables appeared to be filling up with gifts. The pile of presents was a little alarming. Stephanie very much doubted there was a toaster amongst the neatly wrapped piles that sat on the table.

“We’ll donate them...” Tim said, seeing Stephanie’s face.

“You mean I can’t keep the cheques?”

“No.”

“Darn.”

Twelve women and five men told Stephanie how beautiful she looked, and she believed about a third were being genuine. There were seven courses for dinner, and mercifully Alfred had the foresight to sandwich Stephanie between Damian and Cassandra, with Tim sat between Dick and Bruce. Babs and her father were just a couple of people down, whilst the entire Fox family took up another side. Nearly regretting it the moment she made the motion, Steph gave a tiny wave to Tam, who looked a little confused but waved back. Tim seemed quite happy to pretend she wasn’t there, which Steph thought was a little rude, but then again, she still didn’t really know what had happened there. Regardless, she was just thankful an ex of Tim’s didn’t seem to bear a grudge.

The rest of the table seemed to be taken up with WE board members, and other high-flying society folk of Gotham that Stephanie recognized neither the face nor names of. Mrs van Rijk was sat with her husband, critiquing every piece of food that passed her lips. Alfred, who was stood at the far side of the room, only narrowed his eyes at her and kept his mouth shut. Otherwise he seemed utterly overjoyed at getting to Butler it up once more.

Bruce stood up after dessert, looking like he was going to make a speech. Tim’s mouth dropped open, and he looked to Dick, who once again was enjoying the secondhand embarrassment too much to be anything but sadistic. Damian entered a panic and tried to leave like he had at the cathedral, only for Cassandra once again to catch him and glare. If they had to endure it, so did he. Suddenly having a row of diners staring at him, Damian slowly returned to his seat. Indulgently, Steph rubbed his back. She was trying to be sweet on Damian, and thankfully he did nothing but blush at the attempt of sympathy.

Bruce coughed, tapping at his crystal glass to get everyone’s attention. He did it for a moment too long and the crystal shattered under the constant pressure of his tapping with the little cheese knife. Everyone jumped, whilst Bruce stared into his hand, then very carefully, very methodically, put down what remained of the stem of the glass. He coughed again, fanning his wet hand dry and clearing his throat whilst Alfred whizzed around, cleaning up the mess expertly.

“I won’t bore you all with a long speech,” Bruce begun.

“Good.” Tim muttered under his breath. Dick kicked him, and when Tim turned to him, outraged, Dick had that terrible manic look on his face, a closed mouth smile and wide eyes that was telling Tim something. Keep your mouth shut probably.

“Listen.” Dick mimed.

Oh. Close enough.

Stephanie pressed backwards into her chair. It was too heavy to roll back on its hindlegs, which would have been humiliating if she had rolled all the way back, legs and skirt flying upwards. She gripped the table and smiled, channelling her inner customer service smile.

Bruce seemed blithely unaware of his children’s distress (liar. He knew. He knew and did not care. In fact, he probably revelled in it) and soldiered on.

“I know this has been a bit of a whirlwind these past two months…”

Steph’s painted nails had started to make crescent shaped imprints on the wood of the table.

“…But – in fact – it was a long time coming. I am… extremely lucky to have these two in my life. They found me and wriggled their way in. All I can say is, I still see that thirteen-year-old boy who insisted I was Batman –” People politely laughed at the absurdity of the statement. Tim stared at Bruce, mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies. “– And the fifteen-year-old girl who has since proved me wrong so many times I don’t bother to keep count anymore.”

Steph’s smile turned a little less frigid, and her grip lessoned. Tim meanwhile remained unmoved, still gabbing like a fish.

“You have no idea, how glad I am that you two have each other… Point is, I’m proud of you both.” Then, seemingly as an afterthought, Bruce spilled out, “You are still my kids though, so please don’t go too far after all this, you know I have separation anxiety.”

Dick’s incredibly loud bark of laughter made Tim jump, knocking over another crystal glass. Alfred mysteriously appeared to give two refreshed glasses to Tim and Bruce. A toast was made, and somehow, everyone seemed a little choked up. Tim threw his glass of sparkling water back like it was a shot of vodka.

“Dancing time?” Bruce asked, and the table clapped and chatted and began to migrate away. Tim didn’t miss Tam’s look of confusion, like she really didn’t know if she should be happy for Tim or not.

“That was unbearable.” Damian muttered, shoving his seat back and looking to go sit on the balcony.

“No lie though.” Cassandra said. Bruce shot her a dangerous look, but before he could leave the room, Stephanie kicked back her chair and rushed around the whole length of the table. She threw herself into Bruce’s arms for a tight hug.

Tim shot up from his seat, Dick catching his cuff.

“Be nice.” Dick hissed.

Stephanie rocked from side to side, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you!”

Bruce, ever an awkward man, patted her elbows, and carefully broke away. Stephanie remained undeterred though, and decided to keep badgering him. “Promise to dance with me in a bit?”

_Because we’re not going to get the chance tomorrow_ went unsaid, but Bruce heard it all the same. Slowly, he nodded. Backing away, Steph went to grab Tim’s hand and together they made their way to the ballroom. Tim, who seemed increasingly lost as the night went on, held on tight. Bruce watched the pair. It seemed almost like both could not be confident at the same time. Things would come along and knock one back, and the other would turn around and drag them forward, back to normality, back to a sense of purpose, until the inevitable moment when the roles would flip, and the other would stumble.

Bruce told himself that the pattern would break. That soon the two would be able to _rest_ , to see the fruits of their labour beyond a smile here and there, a thank you from time to time, and a pat on the shoulder on the rarest of occasions. The gig was supposed to be temporary for Tim, and for Steph it was a decade’s long culmination of searching for a life’s purpose. A second chance she’d said. Surely, she had succeeded by now.

Not for the first time, Bruce wished that his kids would give up the life they had chosen for themselves and go be normal.

Such a wish was impossible however, and Bruce knew that. Too much baggage and too much empathy meant other options were alien and disconnected from what they truly wanted. What they needed.

Bruce watched them dance, awkwardly, like they were attending the prom they never got to, but also saw how happy they were whilst doing it. He watched as they spoke to many people, most of whom Stephanie had never even met before, and somehow managed to make a good impression with. He watched Tim sidestep and Stephanie deflect every potential pointed barb, every stab in the dark to find something at fault with her character. Some hint that whatever hold she had over Tim would snap and break before the year was out. It did not escape Bruce’s notice that Stephanie’s grip on Tim’s arm was white knuckled by the end. They’d done very well, but by the time the last person had left, it was two o’clock in the morning and Stephanie had collapsed at the foot of the main stairwell, shrugging off her shoes with a wince. Tim was being a good boy scout and doing what he could to help Alfred clean up.

Bruce walked by, about to enter the cave, when he paused, and after a brief argument with himself, sat down next to Stephanie. She smiled, and as she hiked up her skirts so she could rub her feet, she asked,

“All good?”

“You and Tim have done so well.”

Steph scoffed. “Don’t lie. There’s been more than enough slip ups to warrant a lecture.”

“Let’s see how tomorrow goes, then a lecture may be due.”

Stephanie slowly stopped rubbing her feet and looked to Bruce. “You… you sure this person is going to turn up tomorrow?”

“I’m sure.”

“So, you know who it is?”

“Yes.”

Stephanie’s mouth dropped open. “For how long?”

“Just after Bishop Sherborne’s death. It shouldn’t have taken me that long, but when they were trying to frighten you, not to kill you, they slipped up, and I got the confirmation I needed.”

“I… Bruce. I don’t understand. So, you’ve known for weeks? But why haven’t you…?” She huffed, leaning back. “There’s something else going on here. Isn’t there?”

No response. Stephanie felt like throttling Bruce but tried to stay encouraging. “Tell me. I can help?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “I wonder if that’s your most commonly used phrase. You _are_ helping Stephanie. The murderer saw what a big event this was going to be and shot at you to help raise the stakes. Toying with us. But they slipped up, and they’re going to get that big ending. I swear that.”

Oh. Bruce wanted as much of a spectacle as possible. That made sense.

“Also…” Bruce looked over his shoulder, ensuring Tim was nowhere in sight. “It gives you and Tim a bit more of a reason to ‘take a break’.”

She looked at him out the corner of her eye.

“You know…don’t you?”

“Know what?”

Oh God. He was going to make her say it. Fine, she would embarrass him. Tim had once thrown a fit in front of Bruce, essentially declaring his love for her whilst telling Bruce to get screwed. It was the first time he’d said he’d loved her (hers was months before… the hormones from the baby had made the L word slip out a little early, or so she’d told herself at the time). Tim had also picked her up and kissed her right in front of Bruce after they’d caught up with her post-Africa. If Tim had no issue being open about his affections, Stephanie saw no reason to either. Quietly, almost pleadingly, she said,

“That I’m in love with your son. That we want to be together for real when this is all over.”

Bruce exhaled, and wrung his hands. Stephanie tried to not let his silence eat at her, but it did, and she grabbed his wrist, as if the physical contact would change his mind. Bruce looked down. Tim had tried the same thing the other day, but with Stephanie he knew she wasn’t trying to get him off her back, if anything she’d wanted him to be _more_ involved.

“Bruce… is that okay with you?”

“Ask him about Captain Boomerang.” He said, tone short. He watched the blank confusion pass over Stephanie’s expression, and he felt a pang of disappointment in Tim.

“What? What about him? What’s he got to do with –”

“If he hasn’t told you, then he’s hiding the truth because he feels guilty, and he’s frightened of your reaction. That’s not a relationship built to last. Ask him about Harkness. Regardless of what you think of it all, you deserve to know what Tim did.”

Stephanie’s confusion turned to frustration and consternation. “I don’t understand?”

Bruce shook his head, knowing that now the thought was planted, Stephanie wouldn’t let it go. He got back on his feet and looked down at her.

“I’m going to patrol now. Tomorrow I might be late coming to the cathedral. If I am…start without me.”

As she listened to Bruce, Stephanie tilted her head like a confused puppy. “Please let me and Tim help?”

“Help Tim first.”

“But _I’m_ the one who needs hel —”

“I promise you Stephanie… you’re not.”

She stared at the floor as Bruce walked away. What she supposed he intended as a comforting moment for Stephanie instead made her outraged on Tim’s behalf.

“You should have more faith in him.” She called out across the room. She heard Bruce stop and turn, and slowly she raised her determined gaze to meet his sad one. She choked on her final words, “You should…”

She stopped, feeling she was starting to project paternal issues too much, and hoisted herself upwards, picking her shoes off the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bruce. Thank you for the speech today. It meant a lot.” Then she turned away, trying to maintain the last word, and made her way upstairs. She had been sincere when she spoke, as she hoped it would shame Bruce a little more than snark.

She was spending the night at the manor. The whole _don’t see the bride the night before_ thing seemed a little moot in these circumstances. She wanted one last night with Tim, regardless of what happened tomorrow.

Slowly, carefully, Stephanie sat in Tim’s room at his desk, and took off Janet’s (hers. It was hers now) wristwatch. Janet Drake had kept all kinds of beautiful pieces. Lots of rings. Lots of pendants. Lots of earrings. Steph had opted for the watch and the tiara, conscious that anything more would have made her look like a magpie, like someone of new money. She knew that was something Gotham society _hated._ She felt like she was living in the Great Gatsby.

Her head was aching however, and she knew it was from the tiara and the pins holding it in place. Ten hours of it sitting on her, weight light at first but pressing down by the end made her grunt a little. One lady had recognized it as Janet’s and had actually got a little teary eyed; she had seemed so proud. Two weeks ago, Stephanie would have scoffed, but now it just made her feel warm. She wondered if Janet would have liked her. Jack had been indifferent at first. He probably thought what Tim and her had was nothing more than a typical teenage romance. Then everything had come pouring out about Robin and the baby and… well, maybe she _was_ a bad influence on Tim, but she also mattered a lot more then Jack first thought. The way Tim spoke about his mother suggested she was the one with the emotional intelligence, maybe she would have seen Tim and Stephanie were serious almost from the word go. Maybe she would have liked Steph.

Stephanie looked up to the ceiling briefly, hoping that regardless of what Janet thought of her, she wasn’t angry that her jewellery was being worn by Miss Madam from Nowhere.

She was going to start taking the pins out when Tim came in, looking tired and stressed. She smiled at him through the reflection, Bruce’s words stuck in her head. Tim saw what she was doing and made his way over. His fingers found their way up the back of her hair, and began to remove pins, braids and twists uncurling as he did so. He saw her twitch in pain when the tiara was finally lifted off her scalp, and his fingers returned to her head, rubbing to calm the ache.

Stephanie shut her eyes, blissfully happy for a moment. Tim grinned a little cheekily, enjoying her cat like smirk. The mood grew sombre strangely, and Stephanie sighed, opening her eyes once more.

“That wasn’t too bad.” She said.

Tim’s fingers found their way behind her ears, and he watched the shiver go down her spine.

“No… Just… Nervous for tomorrow. Feels like a ticking clock.”

“We’ll help each other through the aftermath.”

“Promise.”

She tugged at his hands, and he leaned down, resting his chin on her shoulder, arms lazily crossed in front. Her makeup was a little bit smudged from smiling and eating and generally fading as time went on, and it made her look as tired as she felt. Her leg had started to pulse a little, the wound reminding her of its presence, despite the healing going well.

She buried her fingers in his hair, and in the mirror, Tim noticed that she looked distant, like she was only half present in the moment.

“What is it?”

She ground her teeth, not sure if she should tell the truth or not. This was such an intimate moment, she didn’t want to spoil it by dragging _Bruce_ into the conversation. Tim however, nuzzled her, and asked again. “What’s wrong?”

“Bruce spoke to me… just now.”

“Oh.” Tim scoffed. “That dinner speech was something huh? I can’t figure him out sometimes. What’s genuine and what’s an act.”

“I asked him about the case. Why it was taking so long.”

Tim chewed his tongue, feeling smug in his irritation. “What was his excuse then?”

“Tim… he’s figured it out. He figured it out _weeks_ ago.”

“What?”

“He’s trying to catch them in the act, so there’s no doubts about the guilty. But he said also, if it was a big scene like what he wants, then it leaves us free to do any option. Break up because it was too traumatic, take a moment to catch our breaths… stay together…”

“Mmm.” Tim rocked them from side to side, thinking aloud. “I get all that. But why keep us in the dark? What’s his angle? We’re the ones in danger, right? We should know what we’re up against.”

Stephanie supposed it was to prevent either of them acting a certain way around the suspected parties, but she thought that was a weak excuse. Ignorance wasn’t going to keep them safe. She would have thought Bruce would have learned that by now.

“He said he might be late tomorrow. And to start without him if he is.”

“God, he’s a piece of work sometimes.”

“He also…” She gulped. “Tim… He also said, that if we wanted to stay together after…” Steph felt Tim’s arms tighten around her. Bruce’s judgement on them as a pair was something he could never stomach. “He said… I didn’t want to… I’m sorry if it’s none of my business but he said I should ask about Captain Boomerang? Which… if you want to not talk about your dad and him right now, I get that. And we can forget about it. But…why would he even say to ask?”

Slowly, robotically, Tim’s arms retreated from his cradle of her. She saw in the mirror as he grew pale and backed away.

Thinking he was angry at her, she got up, and began to try and do damage control.

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t need to talk about him. He hurt you in the worst of ways and that’s it. It’s not relevant to now. Bruce is just… he’s just shit-stirring.”

“I hate him sometimes.” Tim’s voice was cracked and dry, barely audible after Stephanie’s pleading explanation.

“No. No don’t say that. He’s just… I don’t know. He’s worried.”

“You’ve said that before. And I went to speak to him. And I told him not to use you to punish me again, and then it’s the same thing over and over.”

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” 

She wasn’t mollified. There was something more going on here. Something more than Tim feeling sad about his father and hatred for the murderer.

“Why are you and Bruce so tense round each other?”

“You know.”

He wouldn’t look her in the eye. “No. Don’t start hiding things from me. Not now. Bruce is worried because you’re getting more violent? Is that it? Because of what Boomerang did to you?”

“Because of what _I_ did to him.”

Steph stared at Tim, not understanding. “Please let me help.” She whispered.

Finally, he looked at her. Screw it, Tim thought. He was so close to being happy, so close to him and Steph setting the groundwork for moving forward, and Bruce, as always, ruined everything.

“I tried to kill him.” He confessed. “After Bruce came back. I tried so hard. And Bruce thinks I don’t deserve to be happy until I regret it. Until I get on my knees and beg for an apology.”

“You don’t regret it?”

“No.” He laughed, incredibly bitter. _That_ was what she had taken umbrage with? Not the attempted murder but his lack of guilt? “Part of me still hopes he comes back so I can…”

He trailed off, noticing Stephanie had stepped away from him. “He ruined my life, Steph. And Dana’s. And my dad…” He pled. She had to understand. She had too.

“I know.”

“I told you, I’m not as far gone as to… jump off the edge or anything. It’s just him.”

“This isn’t like you.” She said. Finally, she returned to him, holding him tight. Tim’s chest still felt strangled, even when Steph whispered into his neck. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t there for you when it all happened.”

“No, God, Steph. Don’t turn this into a blame game.”

“But I can be there for you now.” She ignored him and pulled back a little, her nose brushing Tim’s. He kept his head stubbornly down. “Tim? Remember we promised we would stick together after all this. I’m not going anywhere if you aren’t.”

“But I haven’t done anything _wrong._ ”

Stephanie swallowed.

“Why didn’t you then, in the end? I can’t believe it was because your plan failed. You stopped yourself, didn’t you?”

“Dick and Bruce and Damian were watching… I couldn’t stand them judging me. Can’t stand the thought of you…”

Steph’s temper flared, though not at Tim, not truly. “Wait what? That’s why you stopped? Because daddy might be angry with you?” Tim broke away, pacing a little heatedly, whilst Steph continued. “No way, Tim. You’ve never been afraid of pissing me or Bruce off. I think you’re in denial.”

Incredulous, Tim collapsed on the bed. He kicked off his shoes, sending them flying across the floor. “You and Bruce have been doing this thing recently where you open your mouths and the other person’s words come out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s weird.” He pouted.

Stephanie moved closer again, and Tim allowed it. Her skirt was voluminous enough that it pressed against Tim’s legs first, until she knelt down in front of him. He wasn’t going to be convinced in one conversation to change his mind regarding Harkness, but she hoped his stubbornness had been thrown into question. Even though he always meant well, if she could point out Tim’s worst flaw, it was that he could be entitled. Entitled to someone’s time, entitled to their emotions, entitled in his world view. He sometimes struggled with seeing things from outside his initial judgement, and it always seemed to take a metaphorical (or literal in one case) earthquake to shake things up for him.

Tim stared at her. She looked a little bit of a mess with her tangled hair and fading makeup, but her skin was so healthy and glowing, even at half two in the morning, she looked so lively. They were both tired, and tomorrow was going to be even more exhausting, but Steph wouldn’t let it lie. Not yet.

“I’m not judging you, Tim. God knows how often I imagined smashing my dad’s head in with a baseball bat. Or with Black Mask… I so nearly shot him when I escaped. I still don’t really know why I didn’t.”

“Because you’re a good person.”

“And so are you.” She smiled, and Tim could feel how in love she was just from that look. “One of the best people I’ve ever known. And I’m not going to let some shitty little man make you believe otherwise. If he does come back to Gotham, call for me, and we’ll deal with him together.” She sighed, then reached up for his hands. “I want you to be happy Tim. But I don’t think that’s the way to it.”

“Do you think that’s life’s point?” He asked, thinking of Dick and his conversation earlier in the evening. “To be happy?”

“Ooft. I don’t know. That’s a toughie.” She shrugged, a little blasé. “I just _live_. Does it have to have a deeper meaning?”

Finally, Tim smiled, though when he did, a tear slipped out, and he gasped a little. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As she pulled herself up, and fully knowing she was going to get Tim covered in lipstick, she kissed him. He responded enthusiastically, rising off the bed so they could kiss at their usual angle. His hands twitched against her shoulder blades, feeling the fabric of the dress blocking the heat she was radiating. When his fingers brushed over the ribbons that corseted her in, she broke off the kiss and stared at him. She chewed her lip and decided there and then to take a gamble.

She reached back and took one of his hands, pulling him down to the knot. Biting the inside of her cheeks, Stephanie tugged at Tim’s hand, trying to make him understand. It took a moment, but then Tim moved closer so he could stare down over her shoulder and undo the ribbon that held her in the dress. Neither spoke, only their anxious breathing filled the room. Stephanie’s hands were up on Tim’s shoulders, held in loose fists, uncomfortable and unsure. Eventually Tim was able to loosen the dress enough that she was able to wriggle out, and the whole thing collapsed onto the floor. Stephanie immediately pulled Tim in for another kiss, unbearably shy at the thought of him seeing her in her underwear (and less) with all the scars present for him to see and feel guilty over.

He broke away, hands hovering near her waist. He could _feel_ the heat of her, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go and indulge.

“Steph… are you sure?”

“I want it. I want this. I want you. For real.” She begged. “Please, Tim. Please.” He caught her mouth then, one hand buried in her hair, the other pulling on her shoulder, almost as if he was trying to press her into him, melding the two together. He sobbed, desperate, and bit her lip hard enough that she knew it would bruise. She would have to wear a red lip again tomorrow to cover it up.

They broke apart to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air. Stephanie gulped as she felt Tim shudder. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, breathing laboured, as if he were in acute pain. She brought her hands up to cradle his cheeks. He was limp in her hold, so tired and utterly trusting.

“Tim.”

He opened his eyes to look at her and she tried to appear encouraging. She moved closer, impossibly, so that her chin rested on his shoulder, legs moving to wrap around his hips and waist. He caught her and held her tight, moving to the bed.

When he set her down, she reached up and pulled him back home to her. She soon ended up on his lap with the two of them moving together instinctively. When she felt him press against her she groaned and the kiss turned sloppy.

Tim broke away, Stephanie ensuring the kiss ended with a loud wet noise, and he seemed to be in a huge amount of pain. His eyes were still screwed shut, and whilst his hands – one on her elbow and the other on her shoulder – were gentle in their touch, she could see him shaking from how tense he was.

“Baby, if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I want to.” He said, tone half begging, half drowning. “But you... I’ve never... And you...”

Words were failing him, so Steph pushed his hair off his forehead. Her smile was fond, but Tim, in his little angst bubble still had his eyes shut.

“Not for a very long time, Tim. And never with anyone I loved.” She giggled. “I’m really nervous too… if that’s any help. But I want to sleep with you.”

They both burned red at it being spoken out loud. They’d both been so tentative about the topic for so long. Steph had largely negative memories regarding her relationship with Dean and the pregnancy it produced. The only bright glimmer was the knowledge that the baby was well looked after and that she had grown so close to Tim during those nine months. She hadn’t felt secure enough to be with anyone else in recent years, and she knew Tim took it seriously. Very seriously. He wanted that safety too, and they had just been so young at first, and then everything was so strained, and they weren’t even together but now… “It’s my promise. To you. That I’m in it for the long haul.”

A long moment passed, until something within Tim seemed to make up its mind, and he grinned. It was the smile Steph didn’t get to see too often but when she did, she was reminded of that cheeky teenager he used to sometimes allow himself to be. There were red lipstick stains all over his lips and cheeks, and his eyes shone. He looked sweet and _alive_ and –

Tim threw Steph back, letting her bounce on the bed and she laughed, watching as he wriggled out of his clothes. She saw the scar from his spleen ruining injury, as well as others that looked like gun shots, burns, stabbings… She sighed in sympathy then looked down at her own hurt body.

_Screw it._

She flung off her underwear and held out her arms. Tim swiftly returned to her, kissing and nipping every bit of skin he could get his mouth on. She gripped his shoulder blades and did not let go for the rest of the night.

No more lies, omissions or half-truths, no more insecurities, and no more blind anger. No matter what happened by tomorrow, she wouldn’t regret being with him, and she prayed that he thought she was worth the effort.

With Tim looking at her like she was made of literal starlight, Stephanie thought maybe her wish had already been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should have seen me writing this chapter. I had planned for them to sleep together ages before in the very first outline cause I was like... I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna write it! Stretch my writing muscles! And then I got there and burned red from embarrassment. I mentioned it to a friend but it was legit feeling like IKEA instructions. "Insert Tab P into Slot V" and all that. Which... uargh. No. I was embarrassing myself even thinking of writing it so never mind fade to black it is!!!
> 
> On a more serious note why do we think Tim changed his mind re: Boomerang at the end of RR? Was it because he just couldn't bring himself to let the guy go, because he knew he was being watched? Because he knew Jack wouldn't have wanted it? Some combo of it all? I have another fic about it (pimping my own fics cough cough), which is a one-shot where that discussion is a much bigger part of the story. For the moment, it's a hanging issue. Bruce is the ever present boogie man for TimSteph pre!New52, even though he genuinely does mean well.
> 
> See you next Sunday! It's time for a marriage to occur...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is not Sunday like I said but also... I have finished the thing so why not put it up you know? I'm still redrafting the final chapter so look out for that sometime next week but otherwise... Enjoy??? Cue Richard Wagner...

Alfred was the one to come in and rouse them that morning. They hadn’t managed to get much sleep, instead quite content to just lay holding each other and talking. It was only when they heard Bruce return from patrol, did Tim finally push for them to at least catch a couple of hours rest. When Alfred came in, Stephanie, a little embarrassed at being caught, buried herself under the sheets, whilst Tim kept his head above to speak to the Butler.

“Hi, Alfred.”

“Good morning to you both. Ready for the day?”

“Serious question?”

Alfred smiled. “I’ve brought your breakfasts up, then Ms Andrews is arriving in two hours. I thought it would be best to put the bride in Miss Cassandra’s room. I have had it tidied to a presentable state.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Stephanie hummed from under the sheets.

“You are welcome.” Alfred paused as he left the tray next to Tim on the dresser. If he noticed the scattered clothes from last night laying around the bed, he did not comment. “Best of luck today.” He added, mirth gone for just a moment.

Tim nodded an acknowledgement, and then Alfred left the room.

Tim got up, Stephanie poking her head out from under the sheets to watch as he put on underwear.

“You’re staring.” He joked.

“Can’t I?”

He pulled out a threadbare t-shirt, the kind which was oversized and what he used to wear when he was a teenager, and flung it at her. Still awkwardly trying to preserve her modesty, she wriggled it on like a worm, then got up to join him eating a slice of toast and a small bowl of fruit yoghurt.

She hugged him from behind. Tim was thin and lean, with not much soft skin to grab. That didn’t really matter to her though, because it meant he ended up being something solid to cling to. Always there when she needed him. He reached down and held her forearms and she pressed kiss after kiss to his shoulder.

“Okay?” He said.

“Mm. Let me ask you that.”

She felt his chest heave, and he took her question seriously. “I envy you. How you can just bounce back.”

“We’re not our worst moments. I forget sometimes. But I always remember. Thanks to you and Bruce and Babs…”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You do a lot of the hard work too.”

“Hmm. Do you believe that though?”

“Believe what?”

“That we’re not our worst moments.”

He held her hand which was holding his tummy. “For you? Yes. For Dick? Yes. For me and Bruce…”

“Why?”

“It’s hard… to let go of everything. Really hard. Some days I still open my eyes and I, like, want more than anything for my mom to be the one to wake me up. She didn’t get the chance to very often and now on today of all days… She and my dad should be here. I can’t let that go.”

“Of all days? Tim… this isn’t for real.”

Tim stared at his closet, thinking of the one ring that remained to be gifted to Stephanie. “No.” He said. “But, maybe…”

Whatever Tim was going to say, he didn’t get the chance to as Dick kicked in the door.

“Morning! Ready to –”

Dick paused as he realized Tim was in his underwear and Steph was wearing his t-shirt. Both turned around, looking like deer caught in car headlights. If Tim was expecting Dick to start teasing him again, Dick surprised him, and he just smiled brightly.

“Cass says to hurry up, Steph.”

She let go of Tim. “Right. Okay.” She ducked around Tim to grab some toast and the glass of juice. “See you in a few, then?”

He kissed her, not bothering to hide it anymore, though the kiss was not as firm as he would have liked considering her hands were full, and said his goodbye. She padded away, and Tim would not see her again until she joined him at the Cathedral. When she shut the door behind her, Dick turned back to Tim, eyes bright and curious.

“We’ve been sleeping in the same bed since Bishop Sherborne’s death.” Tim answered before the question could be asked. Dick’s cheeks blew up like a pufferfish.

“What? No, no! How could you not tell me?”

“You would make fun of me!”

“I would _never_! So, have you…”

Tim burned red and Dick laughed so loudly and exuberantly it reminded Tim of one of Harley Quinn’s hyenas. “Ah! No! I could’ve given you advice!”

“I am _not_ discussing this!”

“No, no,” said Dick, quickly making Tim’s bed and piling up the abandoned clothes in Tim’s laundry basket. As if it were the correct place for clothes that expensive. As he had done the night before, he sat on the bed, though Tim noticed he sat at the very foot, perched as little as possible on the mattress. “Before Damian gets here though... It was good?”

Something about the innocuous nature of the question set Tim off. “It was perfect. And it was with the girl I love more than anything and...”

Dick looked so happy at his brother’s breathless excitement that Tim just smiled back. He sat next to Dick, positively glowing.

“Worth the wait?” Dick asked.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed, and flopped back. “We promised, that no matter what happens after today, we’ll stay together for the aftermath. Bruce can go take a running jump.”

Dick squeezed Tim’s shoulder. “Don’t think you have to worry about Bruce’s approval for you two going forward.”

“Huh?”

Dick jerked his jaw over to the door. “Go have a shower and brush your teeth. Got a wedding to go to.”

Once again, after getting ready, Tim spent an uncomfortably long time fixing his hair. Damian had come in and out repeatedly, his boredom making him fidgety. When Tim had heard that the designer had arrived, he poked his head out the door, curious, but saw nothing particularly of interest about the woman. He didn’t really want to speak to her, for he knew he would have nothing to say.

_Thanks very much for doing the job you’re being paid huge amounts of money to do._ Or, _Hey, you’re not a serial killer, are you?_ Both seemed a little blasé.

Cassandra also seemed to click something was off about Stephanie, and watched as the girl got ready for a shower.

“You’re walking funny.”

Stephanie dropped the towel in a spasm of panic. As she scrambled to pick it up, her brain conjured an excuse. “Oh my God. Cassandra.” She glared. “My leg is a little sore today. I spent a lot of yesterday on my feet.”

Cassandra would have accepted this, but when Stephanie came out of the shower in a towel, she saw the hickeys along Steph’s shoulders.

“Oh!”

Stephanie frantically put her finger up to her lip, begging Cassandra to be quiet. Cass bit her lip and pressed both hands to her face. She looked like a child at Christmas.

“Tim?” Cass breathlessly asked.

“Yes.” Stephanie hissed.

If she was expecting Cassandra to insist on Stephanie baring her heart and what had happened the past two months, she was surprised when instead Cass zeroed in on another facet. Still pressing her cheeks into a fish puckered look, Cassandra exclaimed,

“I didn’t know he bites!”

“Cassandra! God, can this wait until it’s all over, yeah?”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes but did not push.

“I’m going to get your makeup ready. I found a tutorial which looks good.” She said instead.

When Rebecca arrived, Cassandra did not hide how she wanted to be the one to help Stephanie get dressed, and made Rebecca sit to the side.

Stephanie had done her own makeup and Cass had helped with the hair. She had practiced on Stephanie over and over when given the chance, and as a result Stephanie had her hair braided into a crown, bangs and stray hairs curled to make her look softer. Cassandra had grown up practicing something until it became second nature, and so doing Stephanie’s hair was no different. It was when Stephanie looked to Cassandra, and asked what Cass was doing with her own hair, that they ran into difficulty. Cass had blinked, like the thought had never occurred to her, and Stephanie made her sit, so she could flat iron curl Cass’s raggedy mop, pinning in the white cherry and orange blossoms that Stephanie would also wear. It was the girliest moment the two of them had ever shared, but Stephanie thought Cassandra was enjoying the pampering.

Rebecca did some finishing hand stitches whilst Stephanie spent the longest time doing eyeliner and applying false lashes. She tended not to bother with most of this stuff. Concealer, mascara, out the door. She had escaped teenage acne (she tried not to think about the impact having a baby so young had done to her body), but she had bags under her eyes that on her worst mornings took up most of her eye sockets. Cassandra sat, peering over the woman’s shoulder, all dressed in her golden gown. She was not so subtly also watching Rebecca watch Stephanie, who was trying very hard to remain focused on her face.

Tim, meanwhile, was still fussing with his hair. Damian was lying on the floor, the cats and dogs smothering him in his boredom, whilst Dick annoyingly tapped his fingers on a dresser.

“…Do you want advice?”

“On?”

“Weddings. Since I’ve been to a few more of them than Damian or Bruce here.”

The joke was both a needle at Bruce’s non-presence and Dick’s strange running gag of making it to the altar, and Tim laughed.

“Sure.”

Dick grew frustrated watching Tim mess up his hair, so walked over and pulled his shoulders back.

“Let me do it, Tim.”

Feeling more than a little like a monkey being groomed, Tim let Dick fuss, especially after he saw Damian’s eyes glinting with jealousy that Tim was the centre of attention.

“You’re probably gonna feel like smiling or crying. That’s totally fine. Don’t try to act all stoic. You end up just looking constipated and your tummy will hurt.”

“Right.”

“Nothing is ever perfect. Something _is_ going to go wrong. Don’t freak. Just take a breath, let it go, keep moving forward.”

“Right...”

Tim got the feeling the advice was less to do with weddings and more to do with life in general. Dick finished fixing Tim’s hair, then looked so deeply sad for a moment that Tim didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Just don’t waste your time with her.” Dick concluded.

“…Right.” Tim’s phone buzzed. “Time to go.”

Dick nodded. “Hold on. Damian, there’s a lint roller on the mantelpiece. You’re not going anywhere covered in cat and dog hair.”

Damian grumbled, but did as he was bid. Dick when he was in mother hen mode was a veritable hurricane of bossiness, and it was best indulged.

For the girls, Stephanie watched as the car drove away, being nosy and peaking at Tim in his black suit as they rolled down the gravel lane. She didn’t think anyone saw her through the window.

Alfred came in holding two boxes.

“The veil, which Master Bruce’s great-grandmother wore, and the earrings, which were…”

He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. Rebecca watched, eyes flittering between the trio, tugging a little too harshly on her stitches.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You are welcome. I must say Mrs van Rijk has arrived with her flock of workers. I have half the mind to stay behind and make sure she behaves.”

Stephanie smiled, lips stretched as she was putting on her lipstick.

“No, you can’t! How else are Cassandra and I to get to the church?”

“Oh, I am sure you would find a way.” If there was one thing Stephanie had learned the past few weeks, it was that Alfred was as much of a control freak as Bruce and Tim, albeit his areas of expertise differed to the vigilantes.

“We’d run if we had to.” Cassandra said, not entirely joking.

Rebecca snipped the last of the thread and sighed, her eyes admiring her own work. “Right. That’s it. Anymore and I’m just fiddling. Let’s get you dressed.”

Stephanie blotted her lips, then did as she was told. Alfred remained present as an extra pair of hands, though Stephanie wasn’t particularly embarrassed of him watching her get dressed. Alfred was Alfred.

He handed her Martha’s earrings and pulled out the veil. They had practiced a few times how and where it would be kept in place, and sure enough, with Alfred doing the job, she soon had the front thrown over her, clouding up her sight.

It was a mid-length veil, as her dress train was already long enough without one extra layer making her look like a moving cloud. Handing Stephanie her bouquet, Cassandra bounced up and down.

“You look beautiful!”

Stephanie smiled genuinely. Rebecca watched with a pinched face, then finally she smiled.

“Okay, I’m off to the Cathedral now. I’ll see you there.”

“Thank you, Rebecca. I can’t say that enough.”

She turned around, staring at Stephanie by the window. She looked like she was about to cry.

“You’re welcome. Definitely one of my more beautiful brides!”

Stephanie looked at her feet hidden under the tulle skirt, looking ever so modest.

The lace of the bodice was a modern pattern which avoided looking like a doily. As Rebecca had promised, she had given Stephanie a high bateau neckline that plummeted in a v-shape down her spine to her lower waist. The sleeves went all the way past her thumb, creating an illusion that her arms were slimmer and longer than reality. Her already small waist had the skirt structured in such a way that it jutted almost horizontally out before cascading down and back. As the train was nearly seven feet long, it was an almighty skirt. With the flowers in her hair, earrings as her only jewellery, and a veil which left her hands free and covered her back, she looked fey and not entirely belonging of this world (or at the very least, Gotham).

“Indeed!” Alfred agreed. “Certainly, in my top three.”

Stephanie laughed as Alfred showed Rebecca the way out, and Cassandra tutted.

“She’s terrified.”

“Rebecca? Of what? Another death or getting caught?”

“Don’t know. And Bruce wouldn’t say.”

“But why? And where is he anyway? He’s supposed to be coming with me to the cathedral. I haven’t seen him all morning.”

Under normal circumstances, Stephanie would have been pacing and gesticulating, but as she was, hair arranged just so, dress so expertly tailored that she felt one dramatic turn would rip a seam, Stephanie remained static, fingers trying very hard to not start ripping off the flower heads of her bouquet.

Unhelpfully, Cassandra shrugged.

Alfred returned, and abruptly shame ran through Stephanie. Alfred sighed very happily at the sight of her, and tugged on his driving gloves.

“I am very much looking forward to this. Haven’t attended a wedding in decades.”

Cassandra left to grab a camera, hoisting up the skirt of her long dress so she could skip down the steps quicker. Alfred held out an arm, Stephanie reached for him, and they made their way out and down the stairs. Cassandra took several shots as they walked. The photos were never going to see the light of day, so Stephanie wasn’t sure for what purpose Cassandra was taking them.

When they reached the car, Cassandra and Alfred helped Stephanie get in, carefully piling the skirt around her so she wasn’t too uncomfortable for the drive over. Cassandra sat next to her with little fuss, her dress more streamlined and form hugging. It was bright yellow, as was decreed by the colour scheme, with a jewelled neckline and long sleeves. It was by far the most feminine Cass had ever been. Stephanie had asked if she was okay with this. If shit hit the fan on the day, if a fight were to ensue, Cassandra would have been hindered by the clothes. Cassandra had simply shrugged. It’s just a dress, she’d said. And fabric can be torn.

Stephanie conceded that Cass had a point. The girl would probably just flat out strip in the Cathedral if it meant she could fight easier. A complete disinterest in societal norms gave her a certain leverage someone like Stephanie or Tim could not as easily reach.

Alfred went to shut the door, but Stephanie reached out for him before he could do so.

“Alfred… Bruce can’t be happy with me wearing his family’s stuff like this. _You_ can’t be happy.”

Alfred knelt with only the slightest of grunts, and took her hand.

“They are Master Bruce’s to give, and he insisted. And I agree. They are not going to get any use from Miss Cassandra, and I do not think that is a controversial statement.”

“It’s not.” Cass said, holding the bouquet and taking Steph’s other hand. Alfred nodded approvingly.

“So, as is the way with these things, it instead goes to the significant others of the male children. Just as Janet Drake’s items have passed to you. This is no different. This is all a means to a good end. Rather extravagant means if you ask me, but, alas, it’s been fun to pretend regardless. And I do not know what will happen five or ten years down the road. Maybe you’ll be gifted them again.”

“Alfred…”

“Mustn’t delay!” He stood up and got in the driver’s seat. “It is acceptable for the bride to be late, but it is not a habit we want to encourage.”

It had yet to start raining, but the air was muggy, and the clouds were dark. A few workers were coming in and out of the manor, setting up for the reception that, if all went to plan, would never be held. One or two people waved at the car, and Steph found herself waving back. One lady was jumping up and down she seemed so excited for Stephanie.

As they drove in, Cassandra asked, “Alfred, is Bruce already at the Cathedral?”

“Possibly,” Alfred answered, smoothly making his way across the island. “He came back very early this morning almost to immediately leave again.

“He told me if he was late, to start without him.” Stephanie said.

“Did he?” Alfred did not sound amused. “Oh, that’s no good. He must have a card up his sleeve.”

Stephanie made a little grunt and watched the streets as they drove through town. Cassandra’s hand was still in hers, and they were holding tightly onto each other.

She could hear the Cathedral bells before she could see the building. Bright, joyous ringing of bells indicative of a celebration. Her throat began to tighten, and Cassandra’s hands fidgeted in response.

“Oh wow!” Cassandra exclaimed. “They did have to put barriers up then?”

“So, it seems.”

“Huh?” Stephanie leaned forward as they slowed down and parked, looking over Cassandra’s shoulder. Behind the makeshift metal fencing, was a not insignificant number of people who looked like they had been waiting all morning for her arrival. When she caught their eyes, they began to cheer and wave.

“Oh.”

Alfred got out, first letting Cassandra out her side. Cass gleefully waved to the spectators, enjoying the positive attention, before making her way around to Stephanie’s door.

“People always like a high society wedding.” Alfred explained. “And we _are_ the first family of Gotham, after all.”

Stephanie took Alfred’s hand and pulled herself out of the car. Cassandra dragged the rest of her skirt out, and Alfred got back in the car to drive it away. He would return quickly, before the ceremony started, and once the car was removed from blocking the view, Stephanie tried not to jump at the borderline hysterical screams that seemed to be coming from across the road.

Cassandra was fiddling, straightening her train and veil but Stephanie didn’t miss her whisper of, “Wave to them! They came to see you.”

Slowly, stiffly, Stephanie rotated at her hips, looking over her shoulder, to see a lot of very happy faces, all waving and smiling and cheering.

Gotham had its name for a reason. The city was oftentimes unendurably grim. People stayed here for one of three reasons: they had no viable option of selling up shop and leaving, they actively profited over the misfortune of its residents, or they tried desperately hard to prove there was something in this city worth staying for. The Wayne family, for all its flaws and scandals, were the highest profile example that the city had of the latter, and it had endeared them to the rest of the city’s residents. No-one with that much money would willingly spend that much time and effort into the city’s improvement, especially for someone like Bruce, who’s childhood had been ruined by the city’s worst inhabitants, unless they truly believed there was something worth salvaging.

It had been one of the things Tim and Bruce had put out in their statement, all those weeks ago. This was supposed to be a celebration for all of Gotham. Stephanie was somebody to project onto, Tim was somebody to admire. Staring at the crowds who were pressed against the fence, Stephanie also suspected that maybe it was also just because people were happy for a young pretty couple getting married.

She smiled and waved back, and the people cheered louder.

Cassandra handed Stephanie the bouquet then moved behind her to ensure the dress behaved. Stephanie did have to lift the skirt a little to get up the steps, but once she reached the top, she was met by the Dean, who was dressed to the gills in formal clothing, and Damian, looking adorable in a sharp suit and gelled hair. Stephanie didn’t miss the way his eyes widened at the sight of her.

The Dean stepped forward as Stephanie gave one last wave to the crowds.

“Welcome back.” He said.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely. “Don’t suppose Bruce is here, is he?”

“He is not with you?”

Stephanie sighed. “No.”

“He was out last night.” Damian improvised, “I have tried calling him but there is no answer.”

“Is he okay?” Cassandra asked.

“Probably.” Damian replied, a little unhelpfully.

“He told me, yesterday, that he might be late.”

The Dean nodded. “I can hold off for a little bit more then. Fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.”

He nodded at the door behind her. “Come in a little more so we can shut the doors. When the music starts, you must start your walk down, regardless of whether he is here. I can’t stop the entire Cathedral, not even for him.”

Stephanie nodded, whilst Damian saw Alfred coming in.

“Pennyworth, you have to keep phoning father. This is ridiculous.”

“Damian it’s alright.” Stephanie said soothingly, trying not to let her own worry seep in.

“It’s very much not alright.”

Cassandra sniggered, then continued to fuss. Alfred simply nodded.

“I will keep trying. I will go inform the groom.”

Dick was leaning on a pulpit, looking up at the stained-glass windows. Tim was next to him, but shoved behind, so he could not see Stephanie. Alfred approached the pair, looking a little frazzled.

“Okay?” Dick asked.

“Master Bruce said he would be late, did he?”

“Apparently. Is he not here with you?”

“No, Master Dick.”

“Great.” Dick tutted, leaning over to see Stephanie at the far end of the aisle. “Wowza.”

“Wow what?” Tim tried to look over Dick’s shoulder, but he received a nudge from Dick’s left knee for his effort.

“No peaking. Not until she makes her way down.” Dick continued to stare. “She looks good though.”

“Of course, she does.” Tim snapped. Dick looked back with a raised eyebrow, and Tim corrected his tone. “Of course, she does.”

“Hmm.” Dick looked back up at the rose window. Tim’s eyeline followed his, but Tim could not see anything that would make his brother glare so intently at the stained glass.

Minutes passed, and Bruce did not arrive. Stephanie, who was feeling more and more sick, gripped the flowers tighter.

The woosh of the doors opening and shutting quickly made Stephanie’s veil billow up and out, and when it settled, she very quietly swore to herself at the sight of four people who had snuck into the cathedral.

Kara pressed her hands to her cheeks, Bart waved, and Conner and Cassie stared.

“Wow.” Conner finally broke the silence.

Cassandra hissed like a cat, stepping forward like an overprotective bodyguard. “No! You four can’t be here!”

“Why not?” Kara complained.

Damian had also taken the defensive. “Because you were not invited! Don’t they teach manners in the mud pits you all grew up in?”

“Woah. Harsh little dude.” Conner dismissed Damian with a wave of his hand. “Listen, we just thought it was super rude to get ghosted the way we were, so as Tim’s rightful best man –”

“Well no, that’s me.”

“Shut up, Bart. As Tim’s closest friends, we just thought we had the right –”

She had never much patience for Conner’s posturing, finding his bravado a cover for how insecure he could be at times deeply frustrating. She liked Connor, she really did, when he was being genuine, so in that moment, when her stress levels were starting to peak, she cut in, asking,

“Can you sense Batman nearby?”

It caught Conner off guard, and he stopped and listened. She imagined if he were a dog his ears would be pricked up. “Urrr. No. Kara?”

“No.” She shook her head, making less of a show about it. “Why? Is he supposed to be?”

Cassandra sighed and grabbed Conner and Cassie’s hands, intending to drag them to a corner of one of the wings. “I will find them a seat. You want in on this? Sit quiet and behave.”

Taken aback, Conner began to argue. Cassie on the other hand, went along willingly, but turned to look at Stephanie.

“Good luck!” She chirped. “You look beautiful Stephanie.”

“Thanks.” Steph choked out. Kara noticed her friend’s growing distress and moved in close.

“We’ll keep quiet. Don’t worry. Think of us as an extra two bodyguards each for you and Tim. We won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

Hearing those words and seeing Bart’s emphatic nodding quietened Stephanie’s frantic heart. She realised that the idea of Bruce _not_ catching the bad guy in time would lead to Tim being injured (or worst of all dying) was making her panic. She tried to make herself trust Bruce. And she tried to make herself trust the Titans. No way would Conner, Cassie or Bart let anything happen to Tim, and Kara would look out for her as much as Dick, Cassandra and Damian would.

Kara smiled as slowly Stephanie relaxed. When Cassandra returned for her and Bart, Kara gave Stephanie a hug, then tugged on Damian’s earlobe, who protested loudly at the physical contact. Bart waved goodbye, and then they were gone. Stephanie wondered if Tim had seen them, but as far as she could see through the fine mesh of the veil, Tim was hiding behind Dick far in the distance.

Cassandra returned once more, and the music started.

“No.” Stephanie whispered.

“You can walk alone. Damian and I are right behind you.”

“No.” Stephanie desperately wanted Bruce next to her, but for all she knew he was in trouble. He wouldn’t just flake on them. Well, Bruce Wayne might have. Batman? No way.

But she didn’t really have any other choice but to start walking.

She took one last unsteady breath, raised her chin, then began to walk down the aisle, Cassandra and Damian behind her.

She saw Tim jump out from behind Dick and take his place halfway down the aisle, where initially Bruce was supposed to hand her over, and she saw how handsome he looked, and she saw how happy he was. She smiled back, incredibly embarrassed, but also – strangely only to herself – very happy.

She didn’t pay attention to her college and high school friends sat with their phones out recording her, she didn’t look at the countless other rich folk she had been forced to make pleasantries with, she didn’t look at Mrs van Rijks endlessly judgmental eye, and she didn’t look at Rebecca Andrews once.

Babs and her dad would be somewhere in the pews, but Leslie was not, as far as she knew. Something had come up very last minute, as was a Doctor’s life, and she could no longer attend.

When she reached Tim, she curtsied a little so he could throw her veil back over her head. He was grinning so widely and did not seem one bit bashful about it.

“You seem happy.” She whispered, taking his arm as they finished the rest of the trek together.

“God knows why.”

She laughed, and they stopped in front of the Dean, who had a very serious expression on.

Stephanie felt Cassandra do last minute fixes, ensuring not a fold or curl was ill placed, took Stephanie’s bouquet from her, then went to sit down. Damian placed the rings on the Dean’s paper on the stand, then went to sit next to his sister. There was a very conspicuous gap between Damian and Alfred, but neither of them tried to think too hard about it. Dick seemed distracted, still looking up at the rose window, though no matter what angle Tim looked at it, he couldn’t see what his brother saw. It had finally started to rain. Some of the saints from the large stained-glass windows looked like they were sobbing as the water dripped down.

The music ended, and the Dean began the service in a booming tone that made Stephanie jump a little. She grabbed Tim’s hand tight and tried to focus on the service. She heard her mother sniff, and when she turned around, she saw Crystal looking very torn up. Stephanie smiled at her mother, trying to be encouraging, and Crystal mouthed back the word beautiful.

“…brings husband and wife together in the delight and tenderness of sexual union…” Stephanie whirled her head back around and tried very hard not to blush. Tim on the other hand, had turned as red as a tomato. “…in which each member of the family, in good times and in bad, may find strength, companionship and comfort, and grow to maturity in love.”

Tim squeezed her fingers, and the embarrassment faded. The Dean continued the opening monologue, and the pair pretended not to take anything too much to heart, Stephanie especially at the little bit about marriage being something “no-one should enter into it lightly or selfishly, but reverently and responsibly”.

_Yes._ Stephanie thought. _Much responsible._

The Dean took a breath, then looked up at the congregation. “I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.” Stephanie and Tim waited for someone to stand up, to yell or jeer, for a gun shot to ring out, but nothing happened, and the moment of silence passed. Shakily, Tim exhaled. The Dean looked to the pair, and over his glasses, asked, “The vows you are about to take are to be made in the presence of God, therefore if either of you knows a reason why you may not lawfully marry, you must declare it now.”

Tim saw out the corner of his eye Stephanie shake her head, and his smile returned. The Dean nodded at the two, and then begun the declarations.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, will you take Stephanie Brown to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.”

There was no pause in his reply, and he did not look away from her as he said it. It echoed from the acoustics of the cathedral, and distantly, Stephanie heard applauding from the outside. People had stuck around, despite the worsening weather, to cheer them on.

“Stephanie Brown, will you take Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

Her voice was quieter, and much more emotional, but no less lacking in conviction, when she replied with, “I will.”

More cheers came from outside, and Stephanie looked down, at her hidden feet.

“Take her right hand now.”

Tim did as he was told. They were already angled towards each other, but they shifted a little more, ensuring that the rest of the family and congregation faded from sight and mind. The Dean adjusted his glasses and peered at his notes. “Repeat after me then. I, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, take thee, Stephanie Brown…”

Tim steeled himself and began to repeat after the Dean.

“I, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, take thee, Stephanie Brown… to be my wife… to have and to hold… from this day forward… for better for worse… for richer for poorer… in sickness and in health… to love and to cherish… till death us do part...”

Stephanie did not look away from him as he made the vow, and he was forever grateful she did not. She was smiling in that beautiful way of hers, where her cheeks grew pink, her eyes were half shut in their arc, and if she were any happier she was going to start laughing, and with her laughter came the snorting. Not the most dignified, but it was more contagious than Joker Venom.

Or at least Tim thought that.

Stephanie took his right hand, then repeated the same vow back to Tim. When he was finally passed her wedding band, he watched her eyes bulge a little at how sparkly hers was, but she didn’t look too displeased as he slid it on, making the final vow of the session,

“…With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you.”

Stephanie had nice hands, like Tim. Long fingers that were well suited to playing the piano she rarely touched anymore. As a matter of fact, had she even looked at the piano in the apartment since she’d moved in?

She did have knuckles that would cause her arthritic issues in forty years’ time, as various injuries had left her with swollen knuckles. However, the worst it meant in that moment was the slight awkward pause as he fought to get the ring past her middle joint. She laughed, a bright giggle, as he screwed up his nose in concentration. He was trying very hard not to hurt her, and she stepped closer, as if it would make it easier for him.

It slid on, after a little bit of elbow grease, and sat comfortably around her left ring finger.

She repeated the same vow, then slid his own ring on.

There. Done.

Married?

Again, the pair waited for some commotion to happen. For Bruce to burst through the doors saying, _So, sorry I missed the start where are we at?_ For a bad guy to come crashing down, Batman high above, to bring the ceremony to an abrupt close.

But nothing of the sort happened, and the ceremony continued.

Tim realized that they were nearly at the end of the service. They were probably legally man and wife by this point… At what point were a couple legally married? Was it only valid until after they signed the register? Tim suddenly gawked at the fact he had overlooked this important factor.

It was soon forgotten though, when Stephanie leaned forward for a kiss, which he gave, mind going blank as it tended to do when kissing her. He forgot that his parents probably weren’t watching from on high, he forgot that Bruce was missing in action, he forgot Dick and Cassandra’s teasing smirks, Alfred’s English poker face, and Crystal and Damian’s reluctant happiness. He didn’t hear the church bells start to ring, the applause of the congregation, nor the final proclamation of the Dean.

He forgot about Rebecca Andrews pursed lips and expectant face.

Stephanie broke away first, and Tim slowly, reluctantly, took a step back. That was it right? They were married? Stephanie was his wife? For real?

It seemed Stephanie had a similar realization, and she looked to Tim. To his sinking stomach, it looked like she did not enjoy the thought.

Tim suddenly felt like he was going to burst into tears.

The Dean took their hands and joined them together. His voice giving one last boom, he announced,

“Those whom God has joined together let no man put asunder.”

A gun shot sounded, and Stephanie, acting on pure instinct, grabbed Tim and tugged him down on top of her. She didn’t know where the shot landed, but wherever it was, it hadn’t hit anybody. There was commotion, as people slowly realized what had just happened.

Abruptly, Dick’s eyes flittered upwards, and very sharply, very loudly, he exclaimed, “Shit.”

The rose window shattered, and two figures came crashing through. One of them was Batman, and he very gracefully landed on the font, balanced perfectly.

Glass rained down, Tim instinctively pressing down on Steph to protect her face from any shards.

Batman stood up, cape falling over the font, looking positively demonic in the Cathedral.

God, he really had wanted a spectacle, hadn’t he?

The other figure was a man all in black and he hit the floor hard. It took a moment, but everyone soon registered the number of guns he had attached to his person. He grunted, the shock of the impact too much for a moment, then he went limp, unconscious.

Instantly there was chaos, and the congregation erupted in shrieks and yells and shouts. People got to their feet and tried to flee. It took a moment, but Stephanie was still on the floor, Tim pressed on top of her, and she craned her neck, looking for Rebecca. There was another woosh of air, and suddenly her and Tim were surrounded by their family and the Titans. Dick moved away, towards the shooter, as Batman apprehended the man. Commissioner Gordon, quick to shift from happy family friend to police commissioner, also quickly joined the pair.

“We need the designer!” Batman emphasized to them.

“You both okay?” Conner asked, tugging Tim upwards. Tim looked a little winded, but was otherwise absolutely fine. Connor was having to yell over the commotion, and Stephanie, still on the floor, caught sight of Rebecca.

She was trying to leave the cathedral.

“No!” She cried out, jumping up.

“Steph!” Steph vaguely recognized the voice as Babs, but she was already gone, up and into the crowd.

She couldn’t run, even with the crowds that refused to part ways for her, as her dress was just too heavy and long to run effectively in, but that did not stop her from trying.

She apologized the entire time, shoving her way past people and allowing her train to be ripped to shreds as people stood on it. Rebecca had noticed her chasing after her, and had begun to try to escape faster.

Stephanie was the more experienced runner, so as soon as Rebecca managed to leave the Cathedral, Stephanie was immediately on her, throwing her down the stone steps and holding her tight. The rain was coming down as hard as ever, soiling her dress with the grime of Gotham. Her veil had come off when she ran, leaving her back prickling at the cold raindrops hitting her bare skin. The people who had so kindly been waiting for her and Tim to emerge for cheering were utterly baffled at the sight of the bride seemingly throwing a woman down the stairs.

The rain was so heavy that Stephanie felt herself becoming blind, knowing her makeup must have been running something terrible.

She became completely overwrought with emotion, and yelled out,

“Why were you killing all those brides and their husbands? Why did you kill Bishop Sherborne?”

She was screaming as if Rebecca had personally taken each shot, which was untrue, but Stephanie was surprised at how much the truth hurt. She’d still, in her gut, hoped this woman was innocent. Stephanie still didn’t even fully understand what involvement Rebecca had, but she was acting as if Rebecca had personally shot Tim.

People were pouring out of the Cathedral now, including Bart and Kara, who had managed with little trouble pushing to the front. They saw there was nothing to be done, and only watched.

Rebecca was in tears, shaking her head. “It isn’t me! It’s him! I swear, I’m a victim as much as you are! I didn’t have a choice! My career…”

Something about being called a victim set Stephanie off and she began to yell, “No! I’m sorry that you’ve been hurt, but seven people are dead! You _had_ a choice!”

Commissioner Gordon came outside, ready to arrest Rebecca. Stephanie stood up and backed away, emotions running too high for her to think clearly, and turned to Bart and Kara. The rest of the family soon followed. Tim was soon enough pushing to the front and she instantly was in his arms. It was a ridiculous spectacle, they both knew, but they had done their job. Crystal quickly found her daughter, white faced and more than a little frantic, and needed more attending to then the couple who were shot at.

They would have to stay behind, offer an excuse of how they knew Rebecca was suspected of being complicit in murder (Batman had contacted Bruce _after_ the engagement announcement, convenient as the man funded him after all, who had then asked if Tim and Steph were willing for their engagement to be put at risk the way it was, to which they had said yes, wanting to help). They were also informed of where Bruce was – officially (crashed his car on the way over and had gone straight to Leslie’s. _Thank goodness it was nothing serious_. Dick had gotten a look in his eye showing that he was already thinking of how to wreck another one of Bruce’s old cars) and they were told that, despite not getting to sign the register, the two were still – for all intents and purposes according the Church – married. Signing the register was just the civil, legal notice confirming it so.

Tim had seen the sick look on Stephanie’s face, and had gone with the “can we get back to you once we’ve calmed down” excuse.

The Dean, quite ready to be rid of the Wayne’s for another thirty years, agreed.

Left standing in the rain, knowing that this was going to be an absolute disaster come the following morning, and surrounded by frightened and confused wedding attendees, Tim went to bury himself in a hug with Stephanie. She granted it immediately and held on tight, her makeup completely ruining his perfect black suit.

“I’m not leaving.” She whispered, for his ears alone, and Tim’s heartbeat grew steady once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for the hits kudos and comments, I sincerely hope you enjoy the final chapter next week. Until then, hope you are all doing well!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Steph are totally married...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos weeeeeee!!!! Aw thank you! What a milestone to cross! Now I said this would have a happy ending and thus I wrote... literally the most self indulgent fluff ever. Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, one more thing, on my tumblr page (same username as here) I put together a couple collages of the dresses and jewels and such I ripped off/got inspired/jealous of when writing the fic. £500,000 for a necklace??? What the fuck what the fu
> 
> Final chapter here we go!

In lists of depressing moments, having to dismiss a wedding reception before it had even begun was surely high-ranking in placement. As soon as the family and the Titans returned to the manor, Stephanie ran upstairs, dress in tatters, wanting nothing more to rip off the outfit and return to sweatpants and a jumper.

Kara went to follow her, but Cassandra asked her to wait.

“Let her have a minute.”

Kara did not look pleased but listened. Bart, distracted as always, said,

“She has, like, loads of scars up her back…”

Conner nudged Bart to make him shut up, and they watched as Tim, eyes wet, tugged off his jacket and tie. Alfred suggested that everyone sit in the drawing room and wait for Bruce to return home. He reassuringly rubbed Tim’s back.

“I will take care of everything wedding related now Master Tim. Don’t you and Miss Stephanie worry about anything, just each other.”

Tim smiled and everyone piled into the room. The caterers had insisted on leaving behind the food, and Alfred offered to take them to assorted shelters across the city later the next day. Soon enough everyone was sat with a plate of very nice looking nibbles, but no appetite to eat. Even Bart seemed reluctant, sensing the morose mood of the room.

The wedding cake, the lovely beautiful lemon cake – the only thing Stephanie and Tim had been pleased with – never made an appearance. It was hidden away in the kitchen, and Tim had no energy to go looking for it.

The quiet stretched on, Stephanie and Bruce not returning, until finally Tim’s temper snapped, and he carelessly threw down his plate, got up, and stormed out the room.

“Wait Tim –”

“Go home Conner!” He turned back to his friends. “This whole thing was always going to be a misery, so we were trying to spare you the idiocy of it all. You weren’t invited, and you pushed in anyway. Well you got your spectacle, alright? Go home.”

He slammed the door shut, uncaring about anyone else’s mood, and stomped upstairs.

Collapsed in a stained white heap at the end of the corridor was Stephanie, and knelt next to her, was Bruce. Returned from patrol, he had quickly changed into a simple black t-shirt and pair of trousers.

Tim’s temper faded, and he slowly approached the pair. When he reached them, he slid down the wall next to Stephanie, and was grateful when she took his hand. Her eyes were dry, but she looked exhausted and a little cheesed off. Bruce had the decency to look somewhat sorry for how the day had gone.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, when Steph took a steadying breath, and asked, “Was the point of making this such a giant mess to give us a viable reason to split as a couple? To keep us in the dark like that, so that the chaos would be more authentic?”

“It was humiliating was what it was.” Tim cut in. Bruce looked at him sharply, and Stephanie just closed her eyes, emotionally drained and uninterested in getting into an argument. Not now.

“Neither of you were hurt?” Bruce asked the pair. They shook their heads. Bruce sighed, then rocked back on his heels, resting more comfortably. “It was another one of my misguided ideas… I suppose.”

“So is that lecture we spoke of last night oncoming or…”

“No lecture. But… feel free to ask questions now.”

Tim immediately launched into an interrogation.

“Was it a crazy-ex?”

Stephanie scolded Tim with a look. _Don’t downplay it_ , she implied.

“Not the one in prison we spoke of. This man, Anthony Saville… well. Self-taught in harming others. Can’t stand the thought of his girlfriend having outside interests and a career. The relationship had moved quickly and violently. Rebecca saw it as making a choice between her life or her job.”

“Not the lives of those poor people?”

“She was very frightened.”

“But… she helped him murder those people. There were other ways…” Stephanie nudged off her shoes, feet sore from wearing such high heels the past few days and thumped her head against the wood panelling of the corridor. “I wish she had felt she could have gotten help before this spiralled. Before she thought being with him was her only option.”

Bruce looked at Stephanie, whilst Tim shut his eyes. Not for the first time, the idea that she was just too good of a person for Gotham returned.

“Wayne Enterprises has some initiatives with shelters and resources for those men and women who need help. I can take a closer look at how they’re getting on, see what more we can do.”

“Can I help?” She asked. “When everything’s cooled down. It’s nearly summer and I won’t have much work at the library in the meantime.”

“I’ll look into it, Stephanie.”

“Thank you.”

He inspected her once more in her gown, and watched as a sudden thought came to her, and she flushed with shame. “Bruce… the veil, and the earrings…” She took off the pearls, abruptly very nervous and apologetic. Shaking, she held them out for Bruce, who carefully allowed her to drop them into his palm. “Alfred has the veil, but it’s _ruined_ , everyone stepped on it and tore it and…”

“It’s alright.” Bruce interrupted. “It’s just a thing. Didn’t have much sentimental value. These on the other hand…” He shook his closed fist that held the pearls. “…do. And you brought them back home.”

“Now what?”

“Alfred will take care of the logistics of a cancelled wedding. The two of you just need to figure out what your relationship is to be in the aftermath of all this.” Bruce looked to Stephanie. “Did you not tell me yesterday you weren’t going to wipe your hands of the whole thing?”

Stephanie managed to smirk. “Oh sure. For better for worse.”

She gave Bruce a pointed look as Tim’s head fell to rest on her shoulder. She hoped, if nothing else, Bruce would read the unspoken message she was trying to convey. She didn’t want to take part in this ongoing conflict between Bruce or Tim, but she hoped that by now she had certified where she stood. Bruce wasn’t going to get anything from her that acted against Tim. Not anymore.

She nuzzled Tim’s head, unashamed, and Bruce stood up. He didn’t look upset, only a little amused and smug.

“That’s fine Stephanie. We can discuss more after dinner.”

“Wait.” Tim pushed. “What was the reason? For this whole…endeavour. For all the hidden facts and secrets?”

“Stephanie is many things, but she is not a particularly good liar.”

“Hey… My mom didn’t—”

“To be fair Steph,” Tim cut in, “Your mom spent most of your adolescence at work or baked. She didn’t even know you went missing that one time for like three days.”

“…Harsh.”

Bruce took control of the conversation once more, “Tell me that if you knew Rebecca was involved, either of you, that you would have been okay with her making your dress. You in particular,” Bruce nodded at Tim, “You wouldn’t have let it alone. I wanted to do it my way. I needed that damning piece of evidence for her and I needed to catch him in the act. No questions to be made of their guilt. I told you both at the start. Leave the investigation to me. And you did just that.”

Tim’s eyes widened.

“This wasn’t a goddamned test was it?” He said, tone very flat. Bruce’s next words had to be chosen carefully, or a fight would ensue.

“I knew this would be an emotionally difficult job. The rest of the family are like gossiping hens. I just wanted you two to focus on each other. It wasn’t a test, it was an opportunity.”

Slowly Stephanie heard the unspoken confession.

“One more question. If I had said no, all those weeks ago. If I refused to play this game with Tim, would you have found another way to arrest Andrews and Saville?”

“You were the only two I wanted for this mission. I just wish it had run a little bit more smoothly for you both.”

Oh. This was Bruce’s demented method of making Tim and Steph make up. Take a mission and have them play house until it became real. Stephanie laughed, incredulous. Seven dead but one happy couple, as if that were an equal trade. Bruce would offer no more information, and she could not find the willpower to argue. Bruce Wayne was using pre-existing cases to play goddamn matchmaker with. Somehow this was on a whole other level of controlling concerning the three of them, even for Bruce.

Tim scoffed, and returned to his perch on Stephanie’s shoulder. “Whatever,” He muttered. “You’re welcome, then. Again.”

Tim’s dismissal was better than his anger, and Stephanie stared across the way at a chest of drawers. She doubted there was anything in it, rich people liked to have things to fill the space, but she just wanted Bruce to leave. There was nothing to be gained from this conversation. They would forgive him for meddling, as they always did. At least it came from a genuine desire to help. It’s what she told herself repeatedly. Tim, she thought, might just be one step closer to putting his foot out the door, and she worried about those consequences more than any paper headline tomorrow. No doubt the front-page image would be her pushing Rebecca down the stairs like a demented bridezilla.

And then Bruce left, and that was that. Tim and Stephanie remained on the floor for a while longer, Tim lost in his head, Stephanie still reeling from the day’s events.

“I’m going to look through his notes.” Tim muttered. “Nothing about this makes sense.”

“That’s fine.”

“You’re not curious?”

She sighed, looking down. “Just wanna move forward.”

Her wedding band glistened in the warm light of the corridor. It was intensely sparkly, when most wedding bands she knew were solid gold, like Tim’s was, but she found herself quite liking it. With her left hand, she reached for his own, and he allowed it, as she twisted his ring around and around his finger.

“We need to really talk.” He whispered.

“Agreed.” She looked down the corridor, out the window. The rain was finally letting up. “Get changed and go for a walk?”

He hummed in agreement, helping pull her and the weighty dress to her feet.

“You really did look beautiful today, by the way.”

Stephanie blushed, then returned the compliment.

* * *

Face washed, braids undone and now in a high ponytail, and wearing nothing more extravagant than jeggings and a fuzzy yellow sweater, Steph had gone out onto the stone patio to wait for Tim. It was where they had kissed in the rain for their photo shoot, and soon enough Tim emerged to pull her out of that memory, wearing simple black jeans and a hoodie. Neither said anything, but they began to meander through the manor gardens. The ground was sodden, and although Tim’s sneakers were getting ruined, he didn’t mind. Steph was wearing chunky brown ankle boots that were quickly caked in mud. She had better grip than Tim though, who every now and then would slip a little, with her instinctively reaching out to grab him.

When they reached a good distance from the manor, Tim took her left hand, and they walked towards the forest trees that lined the estate.

Tim thought of her distressed face at the end of the ceremony, when the Dean confirmed they were married (at least to the Church). He tried to think through why that could have been.

“What would you have done? If it was your real wedding?” Tim asked, finally breaking the silence.

Stephanie hummed, and moved so she could wrap her arm around Tim’s own, and had a little think.

“Smaller dress for one.”

Tim chuckled, and Stephanie gripped his arm tighter. “Seriously though, I’m half of the mind that I would make my own… square neck and cap sleeves, buttoned back, all satin. No more lace and tulle and taffeta!” She giggled. Tim stopped in a clearing, but Stephanie began to waltz around, kicking up mud as she went. She was acting like a seven-year-old, listing off her ideal wedding, but Tim was quite content to listen and watch. “And my flowers… azaleas, snowdrops, lily of the valley and milkvetch… burgundy roses. No yellow funeral flowers! I mean, the lemon cake was good. I liked that idea for sure… but no sit-down meal after. Just lots of platters and cold food… And we’d get married here! At the manor, with just the family and our friends. And our first dance would be –”

Tim’s smile as she babbled dropped, and he asked, “ _Our_? So, you’d keep the groom?”

Stephanie looked at him incredulously. She was momentarily caught out at the slip up, though after a second, she decided that there was nothing false in her statement.

“Of course, I would.” She teased, walking back over to Tim. “I told you, no-one else will do.”

“You didn’t seem happy about it at the Cathedral. I thought...”

She laughed gently. “Of course I wasn’t. If I were to marry you, I didn’t want it to be like that. I... I just felt hollow at the end. It wasn’t how I wanted it to go.”

“Well that’s great, considering we’re kinda maybe probably married now.” Sarcasm crept in his voice, and Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

“Are we? I thought you had to get the civil side signed before it’s all done and dusted.”

Tim paused, thinking it through.

“No. We’re not.” He concluded.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“You wanna deal with a thousand people asking you about legal troubles for the rest of your life? We got the licence and we had the religious ceremony but we haven’t got the certificate so… it’s a mess waiting to happen.” Tim blew his hair off his forehead. “I think, we have two options. PR wise.”

“Oh? Shoot.”

“Within the next month we go to the registrars and get the civil ceremony done super quick. Sign the form, hey presto, we’re actually married. We’ve got the licence for another six months, and we finished the religious side, for whatever that’s worth… just one signature and we’re there.”

She screwed up her lip, not convinced. “Do you actually want to be married? ‘Cause Tim… I’ve not even graduated college yet. I wanna take our time. I want us to do it our way.”

Tim thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I guess not. And we said we’d start from scratch after this.”

“We did.”

“So, our other option is to do exactly that. Say we need a bit of time to regroup and catch our breath. I think people would understand. Especially if you’re going to all this WE stuff with me or Bruce then it shows people we’re sticking to a guns and not dumping each other at the first sign of trouble… People will be sympathetic, I think.”

“There were loads of people this morning… cheering for us… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“The world ain’t as bad as you think it is sometimes, Steph.”

“Humph. Look at you being all optimistic.”

“You’re a good influence!” He laughed.

“Am I?”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, Steph, you’re a good person.”

She shook her head. “No. Not that. I mean you.” She took his elbows. “What we talked about yesterday… your anger and Bruce and…”

Tim huffed, and looked to the side, reminding her of a guilty child.

“Tim.”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

She didn’t believe him, and silently told herself she was going to have to play the long game. He was worth it. That was of no doubt.

“Okay. So, starting from scratch… what if, hypothetically, I said I wanted to move back in with my mom next weekend?”

“Why?”

“Tim.”

She didn’t miss the flash of panic on his face. _Don’t go._ He wanted to beg. _You said you wouldn’t leave._

“I…would be sad. But it’s your choice.”

She nodded. “Okay, well, what if I said… I wanted you to take back all the jewellery you bought me. Or give them away or throw them in the river. Even the wedding bands.”

“That’s a lot of money in the river.”

“Stop side stepping.”

He screwed up his face.

“All of them? Even the ones you haven’t seen yet?”

She flushed red and puffed out her cheeks. “How many more did you buy?”

“Just the one. I… hold on.” He tugged her over to a tree stump so she could sit. It was damp and a little uncomfortable. Tim got on one knee, and Steph started to have flashbacks to the restaurant.

“Tim…”

“No, no. Let me speak first before you freak.”

“Oh, you –”

“I’ve kept this one near me the whole time. Just as a reminder. I didn’t ever ask you to marry me at the dinner, remember? You just saw the ring and flipped.”

“To be honest, I’ve repressed the whole thing.”

“Well, I’m still not going to ask you to marry me. At least not yet.”

Stephanie finally relaxed, then leaned forward. “Then why am I sat on a tree stump in the middle of the forest with you down on your muddy knees?”

“Because this…” And he pulled out from his jean pocket a tiny velvet bag. Taking her left hand, he removed her wedding band, then flipped her hand so it was facing palm up. Shaking the little bag, another ring fell out to rest on her heart line. “Is a promise ring.”

The ring was more delicate than her engagement ring, which had at times felt more like a knuckle duster than anything else. This had a pink diamond centre, with eight pear shaped white diamonds forming petals, and smaller pink diamonds completing the gaps, forming a circle. It was set in rose gold, and she gasped a little as she inspected it.

“Had it made for you.” Tim explained. “You’ll be pleased to know this one only cost eight thousand.”

“Oh, very reasonable.” She teased, continuing to inspect it. “It’s beautiful Tim. But a promise ring? Swear I made a pretty big promise for us last night.”

“Yeah, well when I bought it, I wasn’t expecting us to…” Redder than a tomato, he looked like his fourteen-year-old self after she would tease him with a kiss. “Hmm. Let me stick to my script.”

“Oh okay.” She sat up straight, hands resting on her knees. “Prim and proper. Sorry, sir.”

“Very serious.”

“ _Super_ serious.”

Tim cleared his throat dramatically and folded her fingers over the promise ring. He wrapped her hand in both of his.

“I made up vows, you know. In my head.”

“Oh.” Every now and then the boy would remind her of how utterly head over heels he was for her, and she would grow embarrassed. He was so oddly earnest with his affections, that Stephanie, even after half a lifetime of trying to convince herself of the innate goodness of people, was still taken aback by how openly Tim loved her.

“Dick talks a lot about being people’s safety net. And you were mine. Except, I didn’t know it until you were gone. And then when we hurt each other… But now, I feel grounded again. You cut through all the nonsense and see straight into my core. And sometimes that’s frightening, how well you know what weird things go through my head. You know me better than nearly anyone. And when I look at you and see how far you’ve come… I loved that angry spite filled firecracker, but I also loved Gotham’s golden girl just the same.” He squeezed her fist, and she could feel him starting to shake. “I wanted to, when we first started this, to show you that you didn’t need to be frightened, being with me. And I know I failed at that.”

“No, Tim, it wasn’t you.”

Her soft protest was ignored and passed over, and Tim continued onwards. “I should have done more. So, I promise. I vow. I want to be your safety net as much as you’re mine. To be your sunshine, your _home_ , the way you are to me. You said last night was your promise to me that you’re in it for the long haul. And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you something just as meaningful other than a promise ring, but it’s in the name. And it’s a reminder, not just to you, but also to me. I don’t care which finger you wear it on, I just ask that you trust me…with you. I swear I’ll take care of you and love you until you forget the concept of love being conditional, because what I feel for you… it’s constant, and unchanging. I swear on... I swear on…”

“…Not the moon.”

“No?”

She giggled and lifted her free hand to rest on his cheek. “Oh, you must know that reference, Mr Romeo. _O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. That monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable._ ”

Tim looked a little bashful, but she quoted the line so flawlessly he felt compelled to run with it, to see how far he could take the romanticism.

“Well then… _What should I swear by_?”

If she kept going, if she remembered the next piece of dialogue, he would have her response to his vow. She tilted her head, eyes looking upwards, as she fought to remember the line.

“ _Do not swear at all. Or_ …” She sat back, “Oh what was it? Um…oh! _If thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee._ ”

She laughed, both happy that she was able to play along and that she recalled lines from a play she had not read in years. Tim moved closer.

“Okay then. I swear, on my life, that I will love you, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. And maybe even after, knowing this family’s relationship with death and the supernatural.” He licked his lips, “And I’m demanding to know if you think I’m worth the fuss.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Course you are.” He answered easily.

“…And so are you.” And she smiled, whilst also feeling incredibly fragile. Voice very quiet, as if speaking loudly would shatter the moment, she got on the ground with him and said, “You saved me. You know that, right? When we were kids? I was so angry, and hurt, and yet being around you… I craved it. Because you were just everything I wanted to be. I could be more than what my life would have been if Spoiler never came to be. And I could be more than that pain and hurt of those first months on Gotham’s rooftops. And then you chose _me_ over Ariana and… I hold on so tight to those memories.”

She sniffed, knowing she was being a little melodramatic, but Tim was very good at pulling it out of her. She wanted over the top and romantic. They deserved it.

“Moments like sitting with you at the park, on Wayne Tower, in that pizza place, on my sofa when you and Dana made me chicken soup when I was sick, when we went to that diner and the lady gave you a free burger ‘cause she thought you killed the guy who hurt me, sitting on your lap on your sixteenth birthday watching that terrible kung fu movie and making out with you on the roof, doing crossword puzzles with you on a stakeout, the music shop… God, the _music shop_ … I’m sorry I let things fall apart the way they did. The best memories of my life. I ruined those moments for so long. But… I’m better now. So, we can make more memories.”

The ground was very cold, and her knees were growing numb from the damp, but she continued to gaze at Tim. There was something deeply affirming to hear that she held those memories in such high reverence as he, that she was just as protective over them.

She finished her own little speech, bashful and bright red, but still smiling. “And I’ll make a promise back. I swear that your pain will fade because I’ll make sure you won’t ever feel alone, that you won’t ever be lost because I will always be around to drag you back, kicking and screaming, and that I will always, _always_ , love you.”

Tim grinned, and released his grip on her hand. She opened her palm, ring safely tucked away, and he picked it up. Holding it, he then asked,

“This isn’t a marriage proposal.”

“No.”

“But I am going to ask, formally, Stephanie Brown, do you want to be my…my girlfriend. Again.”

There was something very child-like in the question, like they were on the playground playing in the dollhouse. But it wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a dream. It was real, and she knew her answer before the question had been asked.

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

Tim laughed, and the wet tears finally fell down Stephanie’s cheeks. They were happy tears, so she let them be.

“What finger do you want it on?”

She held out her left hand.

“A ring like that deserves to be on my ring finger, right?”

He slid it on. This time he had ordered it a little larger, not sure if she would have opted for her middle finger instead, so it managed to get over her knuckle with significantly less effort than the wedding band. It would need tightening, just a little, but they had all the time in the world for that.

They kissed, and the morning’s car crash lifted from their shoulders. They were short, breathless kisses, innocent and punctuated by the sound of Stephanie’s giggles and Tim’s exaggerated noises as he kissed her cheeks, nose, forehead...anything he could plant his lips on. They kissed for a very long time.

“Thank you, by the way. For pulling me out the way at the Cathedral.” Tim said as they broke apart. Stephanie got to her feet, offering her hand to Tim, who gratefully took it. She linked his arm back in his, and they made their way back to the house. “Would have had a bullet in the heart, judging from the trajectory, if you hadn’t been so quick.”

“You’re welcome. You better stick by that vow Mr Drake. You’re not to leave me, even a gunshot wound can’t take you out.”

They returned to the manor only to find that, despite Tim’s angry demand, the Titans had not left, and were in fact sat on the balcony with the rest of the family. Every single one of them, even Damian, looked extremely curious.

Tim shot Steph a look, and the pair sped up, jogging back over and up the stairs. If making those vows had been frightening but cathartic, it was nothing compared to letting their family and friends know the conclusion of the entire event. Tim felt Stephanie shaking as they faced the Titans, who, more than anything, just wanted to be kept in the loop. Her shaking stilled when Conner invited them to come to San Francisco and tell the rest of the Titans in person the good news, and that they could think of it as a pseudo honeymoon. Tim couldn’t help but send Conner an eternally grateful look, to which Conner got a glint in his eyes that implied he was going to lord this moment over Tim for the rest of his life.

It seemed everyone was in agreement. It was best to let everyone hear the truth now because it _was_ good news. It was _happy_ news. Don’t be afraid of people’s judgement because there was nothing to feel guilty about.

Tim and Stephanie were stuck at the hip come hell or high water, and throughout the entire conversation, they never let go of the other’s hand.

* * *

The next few days were… interesting in its non-eventfulness. In how quickly things settled. Especially after the roller coaster of a wedding day. Alfred had seemingly ordered an issue of every newspaper in the region, plus some national ones, apparently for the sole purpose of showing Stephanie how many angles of that one shot of her throwing Rebecca down the stairs existed. Luckily, the headlines were damning the _Newlywed Murderers_ whilst pages four and five were composed of what was probably the original intended article, filled with photos of the family and guests entering the cathedral. Stephanie hummed to herself. She’d looked really nice… ah well.

To say nothing of how good Tim had looked. Ooft. She didn’t know who had styled his hair, but they deserved a hefty payment as thanks. It certainly wasn’t Tim – no, the boy usually left it alone, which in recent years had resulted in it sticking up in clumps after he had grown it out a little. Every day he was creeping closer and closer to the mad scientist aesthetic, but Stephanie quite enjoyed it as it gave her something to hold onto when he… hmm, never mind.

The articles themselves were deliberately neutral. At least the Daily Planet and the Gotham Gazette were (not shockingly, considering their parent companies) largely sympathetic. There were still some hints that the story was a lie. As if Tim and Stephanie were honestly that selfless and willing to put themselves in harms way, could it be that they were already married? Was the entire thing a fake out?

Stephanie sighed, reading the pieces on Rebecca and, after events had passed, just feeling sorry for her more than anything, and a deep disdain for the man who had abused her past breaking point. She knew Tim was trying to pinch information off the bat computer, not believing for one moment that Bruce had told them the entire truth regarding the case. Stephanie had left him to it, not wanting to be involved in Tim’s ever mounting mistrust of Bruce. She wanted to get back on with being a student, with working her odd jobs, with _Batgirl,_ only from now on she wouldn’t return home to her mother’s house at the end of the day. She silently resolved to alter Tim’s apartment in places, to make it homier. The first thing to be changed was the placement of the stuffed toy duck he had won for her all those weeks ago. It now lived on the sofa in the living room, a convenient cushion and squeezy stress toy when required. It no longer loomed over Tim’s bed; beady eyes filled with judgement.

Tim had kept his huffiness focused on where it belonged (Bruce) and two days later had insisted on going with Bruce to work. Bruce, who was wearing a sling and a cut lip to pretend like the car accident had genuinely happened, shook his head.

“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon annual leave.” He had reminded Tim.

“Redundant. I wanna make a press release.”

Steph, who was in the process of stuffing her little purple car full of leftover food and cake, ready to take to the community centre, slammed the boot shut.

“Sweetie you don’t have to.”

“No. I do.” He nodded his head, looking all formal in a suit. Stephanie, on the other hand, was wearing a long-sleeved forest green dress that hung off her like a shapeless tent, but Tim thought she made it work. Tim wiggled her earrings, giant cheap gold coloured hoops, and the little beads on them jangled. “I’ll tell people ‘the truth’, for what it’s worth. Commissioner Gordon gave us a list of things I can slash can’t confirm.”

“Want me to come with?”

“Nah. You’re a private person, Steph. You don’t owe the world anything. I’ll send an in-person reminder.” A kiss on the cheek, then a nudge towards the driver’s side of the car. “Honest. I’ll take care of it. Have fun at the centre today.”

“Well, who doesn’t like cake, eh? I’ll see you tonight. Still waiting on that Chinese takeout.”

“You order when you get home, I’ll transfer you the money.”

“Okay, bye love. Text when you’re on your way back?” Tim nodded, and she sighed, getting in the car. Bruce had an odd look on his face, a pinched sort of affection at the two’s domestic banter. Before she drove away, she rolled down the car window and poked her nose out. “Good luck you two! I’ve heard the press can be a nightmare!”

“Harhar. Bye, Stephie.”

Blushing, Steph rolled the window back up, and whizzed the car around the front of the manor to get back on the road to Gotham. Tim blithely waved goodbye, and Steph made her way back into the city. She blanched and then laughed as she exited the manor grounds, thinking to herself how easily saying goodbye for the day had been. How easily they slipped into domestic stability and safety. It felt fitting. It felt right.

Soon enough, just after crossing the bridge from the mainland, her mother rang. Hitting the speaker, she answered, then tried to find a place to pull over. Her mother waited patiently until Steph ended up in a MacDonald’s parking lot.

“You okay, mom?”

“Just wanted to check in on you.”

Her mother was at work, because of course she was, but seemed to have found a spare moment to call.

“I’m heading down to Park Row –”

“To Tim’s apartment?”

“No,” She laughed awkwardly, “To the community centre. There’s a session on this morning for the elderly… thought they might want some cake and a chat.”

There was a pause as her mother thought through what Stephanie said. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

“Mm.” She sidestepped the compliment.

“But you’re okay?”

“Yes. Promise. Hey, listen… my room…”

“Yeah?”

“If… if you want, mom, you can turn my room into an office if you like? Or make it a spare room and rent it to lodgers, get some extra cash? Or just a room for you to relax in. You can sell the furniture and –”

“Steph? It’s your room, sweetheart. It’ll be waiting for you whenever you come back, for whatever reason. Even if it’s just for the odd night here and there.”

“…Thanks, mom.”

There was another breath, then Crystal asked what was actually on her mind. “So, you’re staying? With him?”

“Yes. For real.” She heard her mother tut. “Don’t be like that.”

“Oh, I know you won’t be told. Believe me, I _know._ ”

“I’ll still come round for Friday night board games. Honest.”

“Alright then. But bring Tim next time.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I want to keep an eye on him.”

“Mommy.”

Her protest went unheard. Stephanie had learned in recent years that her mother shared an unshakeable stubbornness, albeit much quieter than Stephanie’s.

“Have to go. Bye Steph, talk to you later.”

“Bye…”

Pursing her lips, Stephanie had an abrupt craving for a McFlurry, and crept forward to the drive thru. She needed a distraction from _whatever_ that conversation was before she went to the centre, and sugary food seemed an appropriate method.

Tim, meanwhile, had been forced to drive Bruce to the office. Bruce had flapped his arm in the sling as an excuse.

Sat in traffic, Bruce broke the silence.

“So, next steps?”

“For…?”

“You. Stephanie. This whole endeavour.”

Tim snorted, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wheel. “Dare I ask your opinion on the not signed off marriage?”

“It’s okay. You’re both too young anyway.”

Incredulous, but also seeing that Bruce was trying to lighten the mood, Tim laughed. Bruce smiled back in his usual tight-lipped manner. Slowly, Tim’s smile faded, and his expression grew sadder.

“You promise that you don’t have a problem with us?”

Bruce’s broad chest heaved. “I promise. And I do think you work well together. I told you that at the start. In and out of costume. Besides, she wanted me to walk her down the aisle. I want to do that for her one day. I understand if you don’t believe me… but I want you both to be happy.”

Again, Bruce was showing off how fond he had grown of Steph, and Tim relaxed. This wasn’t five years ago, they genuinely could make a fresh start. “She makes me happy.” He said, quietly.

“She’s also made you miserable.” Bruce said, playing devil’s advocate.

“… I think… I think that’s because I let her. Because I trusted her. I mean, who in your life has made you the most sad? It’s the people you love, right? Not the ones you hate.”

Bruce nodded, taking Tim’s words to heart. If he could, Tim would have tried to hug Bruce, but instead he remained strapped in the car, creeping through green red green red lights. He just wanted a fresh start with everything. It took a moment, but Bruce sensed Tim’s neediness, and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re doing fine Tim. Just… keep moving forward.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do... With her next to me.”

Bruce squeezed Tim’s shoulder tight, then the silent drive continued.

Stephanie had watched on the tiny tv at the centre, as one of the staff members came rushing in, exclaiming that Stephanie’s husband was on the television. She had sat down next to one old lady who seemed so decrepit her spine had folded permanently at ninety degrees, shaking fingers picking apart the lemon cake and icing.

“Oh, he’s a handsome guy isn’t he Steph.” The staff member teased.

“Ssht!”

_Not my husband_ Steph wanted to argue, but she let it lie. The announcement was just Tim stood outside Wayne Tower, reiterating everything that had happened the other day. _No they were not married, yes they were still together but were going to wait until things calmed down, our thanks to the Cathedral, I have made a donation even though I know it will never make up for the damage and loss, no we did not plan a wedding to catch a bad guy (don’t be ridiculous), please be nice to Stephanie she’s a private citizen, glad we could catch a murderer and bring justice, looking for ways to improve options for men and women in domestic abuse scenarios_ … and on and on.

Tim did very well she thought, not cracking once under the questions that came his way. People certainly tried to find holes to nit-pick in, but – as much as it sometimes disquieted Stephanie – he could be a very good liar when called upon.

The old lady she was sat with slowly clicked that the boy on the screen was someone important to Stephanie, and she tapped Stephanie’s new ring insistently.

“Seems like a good boy.”

“He is.”

And then she returned to picking up dishes, bringing them through to the kitchen. She was here to work, not to have people fawn over her. That didn’t mean she didn’t smile to herself at the well-intentioned teases people threw her way for the rest of the day.

Come the evening, when the two were reunited at the apartment, Stephanie finally got the Chinese takeaway she’d been craving. Empty cartons were streamed across the counter, and the time was ticking down before they were off for patrol. Stephanie was strewn across Tim, who was himself stretched across the sofa. He was playing with her ring, looking smug.

“Why’re you so happy?” She teased.

“No reason.” And his arm that was wrapped around her waist squeezed. Part of him was still up in cloud nine. He had Steph, on his couch, on him, snoozing the early evening away. Her hair smelled of her candy scented soaps, and it was no longer inappropriate of him to verbalise how much he liked it. It was why he couldn’t bring himself to be… _too_ … angry at Bruce.

The ends justify the means… right?

Wait no. That’s not how it –

“You did good today.” Stephanie interrupted. “I saw on the tv. Everyone thought so.”

“Yeah?”

She nuzzled backwards, pressing firmly against his chest and neck. “I thought so too. Thank you, Tim.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement and closed his eyes. Another moment of comfortable silence passed, when a thought returned to Tim, and his eyes popped open.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Shocker.” Her tone was groggy, as if she were half asleep and he was keeping her awake.

Tim stubbornly ignored her, “…and you never mentioned the piano.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you know. It’s there. If you ever want to –”

She sat up and looked down at Tim, who was looking a little nervous. Pianos and her had a somewhat volatile history. Maybe Tim thought it was triggering. Stephanie had at first just stubbornly ignore the thing, not wanting to give Tim the satisfaction of thinking she was even tempted. Then there had been twelve hundred other things to juggle, and she simply not had the time.

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face sometimes you know?”

Tim looked alarmed. “Speaking from experience or…?”

“You want a little concert? I haven’t played in years mind you.”

“I want you… to do whatever you…want to do.”

She was not impressed by his attempts to downplay the request and rolled her eyes. “Come on. Sit with me. See if you recognize this one.”

The bench was just wide enough to sit the two of them at. She shuffled a little, taking off her slippers so she could get a better feel for the peddles. Clearing her throat, as if she were about to conduct an orchestra, she placed her fingers on the keys. She took in a deep breath and tossed her hair back. Tim watched the process, fascinated.

“Ready?” She asked.

Tim nodded.

Smirking, Stephanie began to play the wedding march, only for it to take three notes for Tim to recognize the song and make him instantly outraged. He yelled incoherently and slammed his fingers down on the lower end of the scale. The noise was clanging, disjointed, and hilarious. Romantic moment ruined. Stephanie began to laugh so hard her snorting came through.

“You’re a monster!” Tim cried out, half laughing himself. He slapped the casing down, miffed. Stephanie continued to cackle, hands covering her mouth as she tried to stop the undignified grunts.

“Too bad! You’re stuck with me remember?”

Tim pulled at her hands, to free the path to her mouth. He didn’t miss Steph’s squeal of delight when he kissed her, and immediately her hands were cradling his jaw, wrists still loosely held by Tim. His thumbs were pressed on her pulse point, and he felt it throb harder the longer they kissed. The childish exuberance faded, and the kiss slowed and deepened.

When they broke apart, Tim placed his lips to her left cheek. “Until death do us part.” He murmured, then he moved to her right cheek. He felt her skin grow warm, and seep into his own core.

Pale blue eyes stared into indigo, and a long moment passed in silence, the clock on the mantle providing the only noise. Some garden birds chirped outside, and the fluttering of their wings past the window made Stephanie flinch out of the silence. Caught of guard, she laughed, then moved so she could perch herself on Tim’s lap. She tried not to giggle at the slight cross-eyed look he developed as she settled down. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead, and she felt his warm breath brush over her clavicle.

“Until death do us part.” She whispered back. “And after, if it’s allowed.”

Not for the first, and certainly not for the last time, they sat still, admiring the other. Steph, with her choppy blonde hair, button nose and chewed lips, whose ability to pull herself out of despair was unrivalled, whose compassion and fire made her a beacon to those feeling lost. Tim, with his ink black hair and eyes paler than Gotham’s cloudy skies, whose ingenuity and loyalty was only matched by his earnest idealism. Tim ran his thumb over her lips, seeing the bruise and cuts that she had left from anxiously pulling at the skin, and he had left in previous days.

No longer feeling shy, he tugged on her neck, encouraging her back to him. They kissed again, and for the moment, things were perfect.

* * *

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few unanswered questions I know! What did Steph's college friends think of it all, why did Tim not mention Ives, Callie etc., did Bruce seriously look at a case and go "I know what this is the perfect opportunity to achieve", Tim's got a couple of hanging character threads right there, did Mrs van Riik's birds get released or not??? 
> 
> If you want, look up the different flowers and their meanings Steph gave for her desired bouquet. Flowersbyflourish gives a good overview for floriography, but I tried to make... like a TimSteph bouquet. Oh yes. I went there.
> 
> An epilogue may be on its way of their real wedding... it may not. Idk. There wouldn't be much to write. Lol, maybe Arthur could come charging in screaming that he objects and then they'd have to rearrange the whole thing again. Maybe they'd just say screw it and elope and throw the whole wedding concept in the bin. Maybe they'd be truly buck-wild and never get married. 
> 
> As a side note I spent a stupid length of time trying to figure out NJ marriage laws. I may have (probably) got it wrong. But, going for an Anglican/Episcopalian wedding you need the licence, which is valid for six months, the service/ceremony, then you need the signed certificate. They never got to that last bit so you could make an argument for and against, but like Tim says, it's a legal dispute waiting to happen. I'd want them to have total control over when that marriage takes place, with no external pressure. I mean, I say this as if they are real people and not 16/17 year olds in canon in a fictional city in a fictional comic...
> 
> Regardless, hope you enjoyed the long journey. I am a little pooped out! As always I am happy to chat on my tumblr, about these two or otherwise. I think the next fic I want to write is about the missing scenes for Tim and Steph in the New 52 leading into Rebirth. Me and some friends have been chatting about it a wee bit on tumblr, so I thought I could do a series of maybe out of order one-shots, updated as and when. Let me know what you think, but anyway, thank you for indulging in this piece! Hope you enjoyed! Byeeee!!!!


End file.
